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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  D  EGO 


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THE 


SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST 


PERCIVAL   LOWELL 

MEMBER  OF  THE   ASIATIC  SOCIETY  OF  JAPAN,  AUTHOR  OF 
"  CHOSON/'    "A   KOREAN  COOP   D'ETAT  " 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY 


1888 


Copyright,  1888, 
BT  PERCIVAL  LOWELL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Preu,  Cambridge: 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Uoughton  &  Co. 


Bara  no  hana  ni 


CONTENTS. 

•MB 
I. 

INDIVIDUALITY        .......       1 

IL 
FAMILY   .........      29 

m. 

ADOPTION        ........      67 

IV. 
LANGUAGE      ........     18 

V. 

NATUBE  AND  ABT  .......    110 


VI. 

ABT         .........    142 

m 

RELIGION         ........    i62 


VIH. 
IMAGINATION 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 


INDIVIDUALITY. 

THE  boyish  belief  that  on  the  other  side 
of  our  globe  all  things  are  of  necessity  up- 
side down  is  startlingly  brought  back  to  the 
man  when  he  first  sets  foot  at  Yokohama. 
If  his  initial  glance  does  not,  to  be  sure, 
disclose  the  natives  in  the  every-day  feat  of 
standing  calmly  on  their  heads,  an  attitude 
which  his  youthful  imagination  conceived  to 
be  a  necessary  consequence  of  their  geogra- 
phical position,  it  does  at  least  reveal  them 
looking  at  the  world  as  if  from  the  stand- 
point of  that  eccentric  posture.  For  they 
seem  to  him  to  see  everything  topsy-turvy. 
Whether  it  be  that  their  antipodal  situa- 
tion has  affected  their  brains,  or  whether 
it  is  the  mind  of  the  observer  himself  that 
has  hitherto  been  wrong  in  undertaking  to 


2      THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

rectify  the  inverted  pictures  presented  by 
his  retina,  the  result,  at  all  events,  is  unde- 
niable. The  world  stands  reversed,  and, 
taking  for  granted  his  own  uprightness,  the 
stranger  unhesitatingly  imputes  to  them  an 
obliquity  of  vision,  a  state  of  mind  out- 
wardly typified  by  the  cat-like  obliqueness 
of  their  eyes. 

If  the  inversion  be  not  precisely  of  the 
kind  he  expected,  it  is  none  the  less  strik- 
ing, and  impressibly  more  real.  If  personal 
experience  has  definitely  convinced  him 
that  the  inhabitants  of  that  under  side  of 
our  planet  do  not  adhere  to  it  head  down- 
wards, like  flies  on  a  ceiling,  —  his  early  a 
priori  deduction,  —  they  still  appear  quite 
as  antipodal,  mentally  considered.  Intel- 
lectually, at  least,  their  attitude  sets  gravity 
at  defiance.  For  to  the  mind's  eye  their 
world  is  one  huge,  comical  antithesis  of  our 
own.  What  we  regard  intuitively  in  one 
way  from  our  standpoint,  they  as  intui- 
tively observe  in  a  diametrically  opposite 
manner  from  theirs.  To  speak  backwards, 
write  backwards,  read  backwards,  is  but 
the  a  b  e  of  their  contrariety.  The  inver- 
sion extends  deeper  than  mere  modes  of 
expression,  down  into  the  very  matter  of 


INDIVIDUALITY.  3 

thought.  Ideas  of  ours  which  we  deemed 
innate  find  in  them  no  home,  while  methods 
which  strike  us  as  preposterously  unnatural 
appear  to  be  their  birthright.  From  the 
standing  of  a  wet  umbrella  on  its  handle 
instead  of  its  head  to  dry  to  the  striking  of 
a  match  away  in  place  of  toward  one,  there 
seems  to  be  no  action  of  our  daily  lives, 
however  trivial,  but  finds  with  them  its 
appropriate  reaction  —  equal  but  opposite. 
Indeed,  to  one  anxious  of  conforming  to  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  country,  the 
only  road  to  right  lies  in  following  unswerv- 
ingly that  course  which  his  inherited  in- 
stincts assure  him  to  be  wrong. 

Yet  these  people  are  human  beings ;  with 
all  their  eccentricities  they  are  men.  Phy- 
sically we  cannot  but  be  cognizant  of  the 
fact,  nor  mentally  but  be  conscious  of  it. 
Like  us,  indeed,  and  yet  so  unlike  are  they 
that  we  seem,  as  we  gaze  at  them,  to  be 
viewing  our  own  humanity  in  some  mirth- 
provoking  mirror  of  the  mind,  —  a  mirror 
that  shows  us  our  own  familiar  thoughts, 
but  all  turned  wrong  side  out.  Humor 
holds  the  glass,  and  we  become  the  sport  of 
our  own  reflections.  But  is  it  otherwise  at 
home  ?  Do  not  our  personal  presentments 


4      THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

mock  each  of  us  individually  our  lives  long? 
Who  but  is  the  daily  dupe  of  his  dressing- 
glass,  and  complacently  conceives  himself 
to  be  a  very  different  appearing  person 
from  what  he  is,  forgetting  that  his  right 
side  has  become  his  left,  and  vice  versa  ? 
Yet  who,  when  by  chance  he  catches  sight 
in  like  manner  of  the  face  of  a  friend,  can 
keep  from  smiling  at  the  caricatures  which 
the  mirror's  left-for-right  reversal  makes  of 
the  asymmetry  of  that  friend's  features,  — 
caricatures  all  the  more  grotesque  for  being 
utterly  unsuspected  by  their  innocent  orig- 
inal? Perhaps,  could  we  once  see  our- 
selves as  others  see  us,  our  surprise  in  the 
case  of  foreign  peoples  might  be  less  pro- 
nounced. 

Regarding,  then,  the  Far  Oriental  as  a 
man,  and  not  simply  as  a  phenomenon,  we 
discover  in  his  peculiar  point  of  view  a  new- 
importance,  —  the  possibility  of  using  it 
stereoptically.  For  his  mind-photograph  of 
the  world  can  be  placed  side  by  side  with 
ours,  and  the  two  pictures  combined  will 
yield  results  beyond  what  either  alone 
could  possibly  have  afforded.  Thus  har- 
monized, they  will  help  us  to  realize  human- 
ity. Indeed  it  is  only  by  such  a  combina- 


INDIVID  UALITY. 


tion  of  two  different  aspects  that  we  ever 
perceive  substance  and  distinguish  reality 
from  illusion.  What  our  two  eyes  make 
possible  for  material  objects,  the  earth's 
two  hemispheres  may  enable  us  to  do  for 
mental  traits.  Only  the  superficial  never 
changes  its  expression ;  the  appearance  of 
the  solid  varies  with  the  standpoint  of  the 
observer.  In  dreamland  alone  does  every- 
thing seem  plain,  and  there  all  is  unsub- 
stantial. 

To  say  that  the  Japanese  are  not  a  sav- 
age tribe  is  of  course  unnecessary ;  to  repeat 
the  remark,  anything  but  superfluous,  on 
the  principle  that  what  is  a  matter  of  com- 
mon notoriety  is  very  apt  to  prove  a  matter 
about  which  uncommonly  little  is  known. 
At  present  we  go  halfway  in  recognition 
of  these  people  by  bestowing  upon  them  a 
demi-diploma  of  mental  development  called 
semi -civilization,  neglecting,  however,  to 
specify  in  what  the  fractional  qualification 
consists.  If  the  suggestion  of  a  second 
moiety,  as  of  something  directly  comple- 
mentary to  them,  were  not  indirectly  com- 
plimentary to  ourselves,  the  expression 
might  pass ;  but,  as  it  is,  the  self-praise  is 
rather  too  obvious  to  carry  conviction.  For 


6      THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Japan's  claim  to  culture  is  not  based  solely 
upon  the  exports  with  which  she  supple- 
ments our  art,  nor  upon  the  paper,  china, 
and  bric-a-brac  with  which  she  adorns  our 
rooms  ;  any  more  than  Western  science  is 
adequately  represented  in  Japan  by  our 
popular  imports  there  of  kerosene  oil, 
matches,  and  beer.  Only  half  civilized  the 
Far  East  presumably  is,  but  it  is  so  rather 
in  an  absolute  than  a  relative  sense  ;  in 
the  sense  of  what  might  have  been,  not  of 
what  is.  It  is  so  as  compared,  not  with  us, 
but  with  the  eventual  possibilities  of  hu- 
manity. As  yet,  neither  system,  Western 
nor  Eastern,  is  perfect  enough  to  serve  in 
all  things  as  standard  for  the  other.  The 
light  of  truth  has  reached  each  hemisphere 
through  the  medium  of  its  own  mental 
crystallization,  and  this  has  polarized  it  in 
opposite  ways,  so  that  now  the  rays  that 
are  normal  to  the  eyes  of  the  one  only  pro- 
duce darkness  to  those  of  the  other.  For 
the  Japanese  civilization  in  the  sense  of  not 
being  savagery  is  the  equal  of  our  own.  It 
is  not  in  the  polish  that  the  real  difference 
lies;  it  is  in  the  substance  polished.  In 
politeness,  in  delicacy,  they  have  as  a  peo- 
ple no  peers.  Art  has  been  their  mistress, 


INDIVIDUALITY. 


though  science  has  never  been  their  master. 
Perhaps  for  this  very  reason  that  art,  not 
science,  has  been  the  Muse  they  courted, 
the  result  has  been  all  the  more  widespread. 
For  culture  there  is  not  the  attainment  of 
the  few,  but  the  common  property  of  the 
people.  If  the  peaks  of  intellect  rise  less 
eminent,  the  plateau  of  general  elevation 
stands  higher.  But  little  need  be  said  to 
prove  the  civilization  of  a  land  where  ordi- 
nary tea-house  girls  are  models  of  refine- 
ment, and  common  coolies,  when  not  at 
work,  play  chess  for  pastime. 

If  Japanese  ways  look  odd  at  first  sight, 
they  but  look  more  odd  on  closer  acquaint- 
ance. In  a  land  where,  to  allow  one's 
understanding  the  freer  play  of  indoor  life, 
one  begins,  not  by  taking  off  his  hat,  but 
by  removing  his  boots,  he  gets  at  the  very 
threshold  a  hint  that  humanity  is  to  be  ap- 
proached the  wrong  end  to.  When,  after 
thus  entering  a  house,  he  tries  next  to  gain 
admittance  to  the  mind  of  its  occupant,  the 
suspicion  becomes  a  certainty.  He  dis- 
covers that  this  people  talk,  so  to  speak, 
backwards ;  that  before  he  can  hope  to 
comprehend  them,  or  make  himself  under- 
stood in  return,  he  must  learn  to  present 


8      THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

his  thoughts  arranged  in  inverse  order  from 
the  one  in  which  they  naturally  suggest 
themselves  to  his  mind.  His  sentences 
must  all  be  turned  inside  out.  He  finds 
himself  lost  in  a  labyrinth  of  language. 
The  same  seems  to  be  true  of  the  thoughts 
it  embodies.  The  further  he  goes  the  more 
obscure  the  whole  process  becomes,  until, 
after  long  groping  about  for  some  means  of 
orienting  himself,  he  lights  at  last  upon  the 
clue.  This  clue  consists  in  "the  survival 
of  the  unfittest." 

In  the  civilization  of  Japan  we  have  pre- 
sented to  us  a  most  interesting  case  of  par- 
tially arrested  development ;  or,  to  speak 
esoterically,  we  find  ourselves  placed  face  to 
face  with  a  singular  example  of  a  com- 
pleted race-life.  For  though  from  our 
standpoint  the  evolution  of  these  people 
seems  suddenly  to  have  come  to  an  end  in 
mid-career,  looked  at  more  intimately  it 
shows  all  the  signs  of  having  fully  run  its 
course.  Development  ceased,  not  because 
of  outward  obstruction,  but  from  purely  in- 
trinsic inability  to  go  on.  The  intellectual 
machine  was  not  shattered  ;  it  simply  ran 
down.  To  this  fact  the  phenomenon  owes 
its  peculiar  interest.  For  we  behold  here 


INDIVIDUALITY.  9 

in  the  case  of  man  the  same  spectacle  that 
we  see  cosmically  in  the  case  of  the  moon, 
the  spectacle  of  a  world  that  has  died  of 
old  age.  No  weak  spot  in  their  social  or- 
ganism destroyed  them  from  within ;  no 
epidemic,  in  the  shape  of  foreign  hordes, 
fell  upon  them  from  without.  For  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  China  offers  the  unique  ex- 
ample of  a  country  that  has  simply  lived  to 
be  conquered,  mentally  her  masters  have 
invariably  become  her  pupils.  Having 
ousted  her  from  her  throne  as  ruler,  they 
proceeded  to  sit  at  her  feet  as  disciples. 
Thus  they  have  rather  helped  than  hin- 
dered her  civilization. 

Whatever  portion  of  the  Far  East  we 
examine  we  find  its  mental  history  to  be 
the  same  story  with  variations.  However 
unlike  China,  Korea,  and  Japan  are  in  some 
respects,  through  the  careers  of  all  three 
we  can  trace  the  same  life-spirit.  It  is  the 
career  of  the  river  Jordan  rising  like  any 
other  stream  from  the  springs  among  the 
mountains  only  to  fall  after  a  brief  exist- 
ence into  the  Dead  Sea.  For  their  vital 
force  had  spent  itself  more  than  a  millen- 
nium ago.  Already,  then,  their  civilization 
had  in  its  deeper  developments  attained 


10  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

its  stature,  and  has  simply  been  perfecting 
itself  since.  We  may  liken  it  to  some 
stunted  tree,  that,  finding  itself  prevented 
from  growth,  hastes  the  more  luxuriantly 
to  put  forth  flowers  and  fruit.  For  not 
the  final  but  the  medial  processes  were 
skipped.  In  those  superficial  amenities 
with  which  we  more  particularly  link  our 
idea  of  civilization,  these  peoples  continued 
to  grow.  Their  refinement,  if  failing  to 
reach  our  standard  in  certain  respects,  sur- 
passes ours  considering  the  bare  barbaric 
basis  upon  which  it  rests.  For  it  is  as 
true  of  the  Japanese  as  of  the  proverbial 
'  Russian,  though  in  a  more  scientific  sense, 
that  if  you  scratch  him  you  will  find  the 
ancestral  Tartar.  But  it  is  no  less  true 
that  the  descendants  of  this  rude  forefather 
have  now  taken  on  a  polish  of  which  their 
own  exquisite  lacquer  gives  but  a  faint  re- 
flection. The  surface  was  perfected  after 
the  substance  was  formed.  Our  word  fin- 
ish, with  its  double  meaning,  expresses  both 
the  process  and  the  result. 

Another  factor  entered  to  heighten  the 
bizarre  effect,  a  cause  which  is  the  inevita- 
ble concomitant  of  a  lack  of  intrinsic  im- 
pulse —  the  spirit  of  imitation.  Though 


INDIVIDUALITY.  11 

consequent  enough,  the  results  of  this  trait 
appear  anything  but  natural  to  people  of  a 
more  progressive  past.  The  proverbial  col- 
lar and  pair  of  spurs  look  none  the  less  odd 
to  the  stranger  for  being  a  mental  instead 
of  a  bodily  habit.  Something  akin  to  such 
a  case  of  unnatural  selection  has  there 
taken  place.  The  orderly  procedure  of 
natural  evolution  was  disastrously  supple- 
mented by  man.  For  the  fact  that  in  the 
growth  of  their  tree  of  knowledge  the 
branches  developed  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  trunk  is  due  to  a  practice  of  culture- 
grafting. 

From  before  the  time  when  they  began 
to  leave  records  of  their  actions  the  Japan- 
ese have  been  a  nation  of  importers,  not  of 
merchandise,  but  of  ideas.  They  have  in- 
variably shown  the  most  advanced  free- 
trade  spirit  in  preferring  to  take  somebody 
else's  ready-made  articles  rather  than  to 
try  to  produce  any  brand-new  conceptions 
themselves.  They  continue  to  follow  the 
same  line  of  life.  A  hearty  appreciation 
of  the  things  of  others  is  still  one  of  their 
most  winning  traits.  What  they  took  they 
grafted  bodily  upon  their  ancestral  tree, 
which  in  consequence  came  to  present  a 


12    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

most  unnaturally  diversified  appearance. 
For  though  not  unlike  other  nations  in 
wishing  to  borrow,  if  their  zeal  in  the  mat- 
ter was  slightly  excessive,  they  were  pe- 
culiar in  that  they  never  assimilated  what 
they  took.  They  simply  inserted  it  upon 
the  already  existing  growth.  There  it  re- 
mained, and  throve,  and  blossomed,  nour- 
ished by  that  indigenous  Japanese  sap, 
taste.  But  like  grafts  generally,  the  for- 
eign boughs  were  not  much  modified  by 
their  new  life-blood,  nor  was  the  tree  in  its 
turn  at  all  affected  by  them.  Connected 
with  it  only  as  separable  parts  of  its  struc- 
ture, the  cuttings  might  have  been  lopped 
off  again  without  influencing  perceptibly 
the  condition  of  the  foster-parent  stem.  The 
grafts  in  time  grew  to  be  great  branches, 
but  the  trunk  remained  through  it  all  the 
trunk  of  a  sapling.  In  other  words,  the 
nation  grew  up  to  man's  estate,  keeping 
the  mind  of  its  childhood. 

What  is  thus  true  of  the  Japanese  is 
true  likewise  of  the  Koreans  and  of  the 
Chinese.  The  three  peoples,  indeed,  form 
so  many  links  in  one  long  chain  of  borrow- 
ing. China  took  from  India,  then  Korea 
copied  China,  and  lastly  Japan  imitated 


INDIVIDUALITY.  13 

Korea.  In  this  simple  manner  they  succes- 
sively became  possessed  of  a  civilization 
which  originally  was  not  the  property  of 
any  one  of  them.  In  the  eagerness  they 
all  evinced  in  purloining  what  was  not 
theirs,  and  in  the  perfect  content  with 
which  they  then  proceeded  to  enjoy  what 
they  had  taken,  they  remind  us  forcibly  of 
that  happy-go-lucky  class  in  the  commu- 
nity which  prefers  to  live  on  questionable 
loans  rather  than  work  itself  for  a  living. 
Like  those  same  individuals,  whatever  in- 
terest the  Far  Eastern  people  may  succeed 
in  raising  now,  Nature  will  in  the  end 
make  them  pay  dearly  for  their  lack  of 
principal. 

The  Far  Eastern  civilization  resembles, 
in  fact,  more  a  mechanical  mixture  of  social 
elements  than  a  well  differentiated  chemi- 
cal compound.  For  in  spite  of  the  great 
variety  of  ingredients  thrown  into  its  cal- 
dron of  destiny,  as  no  affinity  existed  be- 
tween them,  no  combination  resulted.  The 
power  to  fuse  was  wanting.  Capability  to 
evolve  anything  is  not  one  of  the  marked 
characteristics  of  the  Far  East.  Indeed, 
the  tendency  to  spontaneous  variation,  Na- 
ture's mode  of  making  experiments,  would 


14    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

seem  there  to  have  been  an  enterprising 
faculty  that  was  exhausted  early.  Sleepy, 
no  doubt,  from  having  got  up  betimes  with 
the  dawn,  these  inhabitants  of  the  lands 
of  the  morning  began  to  look  upon  their 
day  as  already  far  spent  before  they  had 
reached  its  noon.  They  grew  old  young, 
and  have  remained  much  the  same  age 
ever  since.  What  they  were  centuries  ago, 
that  at  bottom  they  are  to-day.  Take  away 
the  European  influence  of  the  last  twenty 
years,  and  each  man  might  almost  be  his 
own  great-grandfather.  In  race  character- 
istics he  is  yet  essentially  the  same.  The 
traits  that  distinguished  these  peoples  in 
the  past  have  been  gradually  extinguishing 
them  ever  since.  Of  these  traits,  stagnat- 
ing influences  upon  their  career,  perhaps 
the  most  important  is  the  great  quality  of 
impersonality. 

If  we  take,  through  the  earth's  temper- 
ate zone,  a  belt  of  country  whose  northern 
and  southern  edges  are  determined  by  cer- 
tain limiting  isotherms,  not  more  than  half 
the  width  of  the  zone  apart,  we  shall  find 
that  we  have  included  in  a  relatively  small 
extent  of  surface  almost  all  the  nations  of 
note  in  the  world,  past  or  present.  Now 


INDIVIDUALITY.  15 

if  we  examine  this  belt,  and  compare  the 
different  parts  of  it  with  one  another,  we 
shall  be  struck  by  a  remarkable  fact.  The 
peoples  inhabiting  it  grow  steadily  more  per- 
sonal as  we  go  west.  So  unmistakable  is 
this  gradation,  that  one  is  almost  tempted 
to  ascribe  it  to  cosmical  rather  than  to 
human  causes.  It  is  as  marked  as  the 
change  in  color  of  the  human  complex- 

O  A 

ion  observable  along  any  meridian,  which 
ranges  from  black  at  the  equator  to  blonde 
toward  the  pole.  In  like  manner,  the  sense 
of  self  grows  more  intense  as  we  follow  in 
the  wake  of  the  setting  sun,  and  fades 
steadily  as  we  advance  into  the  dawn. 
America,  Europe,  the  Levant,  India,  Japan, 
each  is  less  personal  than  the  one  before. 
We  stand  at  the  nearer  end  of  the  scale, 
the  Fat  Orientals  at  the  other.  If  with  us 
the  /seems  to  be  of  the  very  essence  of  the 
soul,  then  the  soul  of  the  Far  East  may  be 
said  to  be  Impersonality. 

Curious  as  this  characteristic  is  as  a  fact, 
it  is  even  more  interesting  as  a  factor.  For 
what  it  betokens  of  these  peoples  in  partic- 
ular may  suggest  much  about  man  gener- 
ally. It  may  mark  a  stride  in  theory,  if 
a  standstill  in  practice.  Possibly  it  may 


16     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

help  us  to  some  understanding  of  ourselves. 
Not  that  it  promises  much  aid  to  vexed 
metaphysical  questions,  but  as  a  study  in 
sociology  it  may  not  prove  so  vain. 

And  for  a  thing  which  is  always  with  us, 
its  discussion  may  be  said  to  be  peculiarly 
opportune  just  now.  For  it  lies  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  most  pressing  questions  of  the 
day.  Of  the  two  great  problems  that  stare 
the  Western  world  in  the  face  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,  both  turn  to  it  for  solution. 
Agnosticism,  the  foreboding  silence  of  those 
who  think,  socialism,  communism,  and  nihil- 
ism, the  petulant  cry  of  those  who  do  not, 
alike  depend  ultimately  for  the  right  to  be 
upon  the  truth  or  the  falsity  of  the  sense  of 
self.  . 

For  if  there  be  no  such  actual  thing  as 
individuality,  if  the  feeling  we  call  by  that 
name  be  naught  but  the  transient  illusion 
the  Buddhists  would  have  us  believe  it, 
any  faith  founded  upon  it  as  basis  vanishes 
as  does  the  picture  in  a  revolving  kaleido- 
scope,—  less  enduring  even  than  the  flit- 
ting phantasmagoria  of  a  dream.  If  the 
ego  be  but  the  passing  shadow  of  the  ma- 
terial brain,  at  the  disintegration  of  the 
gray  matter  what  will  become  of  us  ?  Shall 


INDI VID  UA  LIT  7.  17 

we  simply  lapse  into  an  indistinguishable 
part  of  the  vast  universe  that  compasses 
us  round  ?  At  the  thought  we  seem  to 
stand  straining  our  gaze,  on  the  shore  of 
the  great  sea  of  knowledge,  only  to  watch 
the  fog  roll  in,  and  hide  from  our  view  even 
those  headlands  of  hope  that,  like  beseech- 
ing hands,  stretch  out  into  the  deep. 

So  more  materially.  If  individuality  be 
a  delusion  of  the  mind,  what  motive  potent 
enough  to  excite  endeavor  in  the  breast 
of  an  ordinary  mortal  remains  ?  Philoso- 
phers, indeed,  might  still  work  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  mankind,  but  mankind  itself 
would  not  continue  long  to  labor  energeti- 
cally for  what  should  profit  only  the  com- 
mon weal.  Take  away  the  stimulus  of  in- 
dividuality, and  action  is  paralyzed  at  once. 
For  with  most  men  the  promptings  of  per- 
sonal advantage  only  afford  sufficient  incen- 
tive to  effort.  Destroy  this  force,  then  any 
consideration  due  it  lapses,  and  socialism  is 
not  only  justified,  it  is  raised  instantly  into 
an  axiom  of  life.  The  community,  in  that 
case,  becomes  itself  the  unit,  the  indivisible 
atom  of  existence.  Socialism,  then  com- 
munism, then  nihilism,  follow  in  inevitable 
sequence.  That  even  the  Far  Oriental, 


18  THE  SOUL    OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

with  all  his  numbing  impersonality,  has  not 
touched  this  goal  may  at  least  suggest  that 
individuality  is  a  fact. 

But  first,  what  do  we  know  about  its  ex- 
istence ourselves? 

Very  early  in  the  course  of  every  thought- 
ful childhood  an  event  takes  place,  by  the 
side  of  which,  to  the  child  himself,  all  other 
events  sink  into  insignificance.  It  is  not 
one  that  is  recognized  and  chronicled  by 
the  world,  for  it  is  wholly  unconnected 
with  action.  No  one  but  the  child  is 
aware  of  its  occurrence,  and  he  never 
speaks  of  it  to  others.  Yet  to  that  child 
it  marks  an  epoch.  So  intensely  individual 
does  it  seem  that  the  boy  is  afraid  to  avow 
it,  while  in  reality  so  universal  is  it  that 
probably  no  human  being  has  escaped  its 
influence.  Though  subjective  purely,  it 
has  more  vividness  than  any  external 
event ;  and  though  strictly  intrinsic  to  life, 
it  is  more  startling  than  any  accident  of 
fate  or  fortune.  This  experience  of  the 
boy's,  at  once  so  singular  and  yet  so  gen- 
eral, is  nothing  less  than  the  sudden  reve- 
lation to  him  one  day  of  the  fact  of  his 
own  personality. 

Somewhere  about  the  time  when  sensa- 


INDIVIDUALITY.  19 

tion  is  giving  place  to  sensitiveness  as  the 
great  self -educator,  and  the  knowledge 
gained  by  the  five  bodily  senses  is  being 
fused  into  the  wisdom  of  that  mental  one 
we  call  common  sense,  the  boy  makes  a 
discovery  akin  to  the  act  of  waking  up. 
All  at  once  he  becomes  conscious  of  him- 
self ;  and  the  consciousness  has  about  it  a 
touch  of  the  uncanny.  Hitherto  he  has 
been  aware  only  of  matter;  he  now  first 
realizes  mind.  Unwarned,  unprepared,  he 
is  suddenly  ushered  before  being,  and 
stands  awe-struck  in  the  presence  of  — 
himself. 

If  the  introduction  to  his  own  identity 
was  startling,  there  is  nothing  reassuring 
in  the  feeling  that  this  strange  acquaint- 
anceship must  last.  For  continue  it  does. 
It  becomes  an  unsought  intimacy  he  can- 
not shake  off.  Like  to  his  own  shadow  he 
cannot  escape  it.  To  himself  a  man  can- 
not but  be  at  home.  For  years  this  alter 
ego  haunts  him,  for  he  imagines  it  an  idio- 
syncrasy of  his  own,  a  morbid  peculiarity 
he  dare  not  confide  to  any  one,  for  fear  of 
being  thought  a  fool.  Not  till  long  after- 
wards, when  he  has  learned  to  live  as  a 
matter  of  course  with  his  ever-present 


20    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ghost,  does  he   discover   that   others  have 
had  like  familiars  themselves. 

Sometimes  this  dawn  of  consciousness  is 
preceded  by  a  long  twilight  of  soul-awak- 
ening ;  but  sometimes,  upon  more  sensitive 
and  subtler  natures,  the  light  breaks  with 
all  the  suddenness  of  a  sunrise  at  the  equa- 
tor, revealing  to  the  mind's  eye  an  unsus- 
pected world  of  self  within.  But  in  what- 
ever way  we  may  awake  to  it,  the  sense  of 
personality,  when  first  realized,  appears  al- 
ready, like  the  fabled  Goddess  of  Wisdom, 
full  grown  in  the  brain.  From  the  mo- 
ment when  we  first  remember  ourselves  we 
seem  to  be  as  old  as  we  ever  seem  to  others 
afterwards  to  become.  We  grow,  indeed, 
in  knowledge,  in  wisdom,  in  experience,  as 
our  years  increase,  but  deep  down  in  our 
heart  of  hearts  we  are  still  essentially  the 
same.  To  be  sure,  people  pay  us  more 
deference  than  they  did,  which  suggests  a 
doubt  at  times  whether  we  may  not  have 
changed ;  small  boys  of  a  succeeding  gen- 
eration treat  us  with  a  respect  that  causes 
us  inwardly  to  smile,  as  we  think  how  lit- 
tle we  differ  from  them,  if  they  but  knew 
it.  For  at  bottom  we  are  not  conscious  of 
change  from  that  morning,  long  ago,  when 


INDIVIDUALITY.  21 

first  we  realized  ourselves.  We  feel  just 
as  young  now  as  we  felt  old  then.  We  are 
but  amused  at  the  world's  discrimination 
where  we  can  detect  no  difference. 

Every  human  being  has  been  thus  "  twice 
born  "  :  once  as  matter,  once  as  mind.  Nor 
is  this  second  birth  the  birthright  only  of 
mankind.  All  the  higher  animals  probably, 
possibly  even  the  lower  too,  have  experi- 
enced some  such  realization  of  individual 
identity.  However  that  may  be,  certainly 
to  all  races  of  men  has  come  this  revela- 
tion ;  only  the  degree  in  which  they  have 
felt  its  force  has  differed  immensely.  It  is 
one  thing  to  the  apathetic,  fatalistic  Turk, 
and  quite  another  matter  to  an  energetic, 
nervous  American.  Facts,  fancies,  faiths, 
all  show  how  wide  is  the  variance  in  feel- 
ings. With  them  no  introspective  yv&Oi 
a-iavTov  overexcites  the  consciousness  of  self. 
But  with  us,  as  with  those  of  old  possessed 
of  devils,  it  comes  to  startle  and  stays  to 
distress.  Too  apt  is  it  to  prove  an  ever- 
present,  undesirable  double.  Too  often 
does  it  play  the  part  of  uninvited  spectre 
at  the  feast,  whose  presence  no  one  save  its 
unfortunate  victim  suspects.  The  haunt- 
ing horror  of  his  own  identity  is  to  natures 


22  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

far  less  eccentric  than  Kenelm  Chillingly's 
only  too  common  a  curse.  To  this  com- 
panionship, paradoxical  though  it  sound,  is 
principally  due  the  peculiar  loneliness  of 
childhood.  For  nothing  is  so  isolating  as 
a  persistent  idea  which  one  dares  not  con- 
fide. 

And  yet,  —  stranger  paradox  still,  —  was 
there  ever  any  one  willing  to  exchange  his 
personality  for  another's  ?  Who  can  imag- 
ine foregoing  his  own  self?  Nay,  do  we 
not  cling  even  to  its  outward  appearance  ? 
Is  there  a  man  so  poor  in  all  that  man  holds 
dear  that  he  does  not  keenly  resent  being 
accidentally  mistaken  for  his  neighbor? 
Surely  there  must  be  something  more  than 
mirage  in  this  deep-implanted,  widespread 
instinct  of  human  race. 

But  however  strong  the  conviction  now 
of  one's  individuality,  is  there  aught  to  as- 
sure him  of  its  continuance  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  its  present  life  ?  Will  it  awake  on 
death's  morrow  and  know  itself,  or  will  it, 
like  the  body  that  gave  it  lodgment,  disin- 
tegrate again  into  indistinguishable  spirit 
dust  ?  Close  upon  the  heels  of  the  exist- 
ing consciousness  of  self  treads  the  shadow- 
like  doubt  of  its  hereafter.  Will  analogy 


INDIVIDUALITY.  23 

help  to  answer  the  grewsorne  riddle  of  the 
Sphinx  ?  Are  the  laws  we  have  learned 
to  be  true  for  matter  true  also  for  mind? 
Matter  we  now  know  is  indestructible ;  yet 
the  form  of  it  with  which  we  once  were  so 
fondly  familiar  vanishes  never  to  return. 
Is  a  like  fate  to  be  the  lot  of  the  soul? 
That  mind  should  be  capable  of  annihila- 
tion is  as  inconceivable  as  that  matter 
should  cease  to  be.  Surely  the  spirit  we 
feel  existing  round  about  us  on  every  side 
now  has  been  from  ever,  and  will  be  for 
ever  to  come.  But  that  portion  of  it  which 
we  each  know  as  self,  is  it  not  like  to  a 
drop  of  rain  seen  in  its  falling  through  the 
air  ?  Indistinguishable  the  particle  was  in 
the  cloud  whence  it  came;  indistinguish- 
able it  will  become  again  in  the  ocean 
whither  it  is  bound.  Its  personality  is  but 
its  passing  phase  from  a  vast  impersonal  on 
the  one  hand  to  an  equally  vast  impersonal 
on  the  other.  Thus  seers  preached  in  the 
past ;  so  modern  science  is  hinting  to-day. 
With  us  the  idea  seems  the  bitter  fruit  of 
material  philosophy  ;  by  them  it  was  looked 
upon  as  the  fairest  flower  of  their  faith. 
What  is  dreaded  now  as  the  impious  sug- 
gestion of  the  godless  four  thousand  years 


24  THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ago  was  reverenced   as   a   sacred  tenet  of 
religion. 

Shorter  even  than  his  short  threescore 
years  and  ten  is  that  soul's  life  of  which 
man  is  directly  cognizant.  Bounded  by 
two  seemingly  impersonal  states  is  the  per- 
sonal consciousness  of  which  he  is  made 
aware :  the  one  the  infantile  existence  that 
precedes  his  boyish  discovery,  the  other 
the  gloom  that  grows  with  years,  —  two 
twilights  that  fringe  the  two  borders  of  his 
day.  But  with  the  Far  Oriental,  life  is  all 
twilight.  For  in  Japan  and  China  both 
states  are  found  together.  There,  side  by 
side  with  the  present  unconsciousness  of 
the  babe  exists  the  belief  in  a  coming  un- 
consciousness for  the  man.  So  inseparably 
blended  are  the  two  that  the  known  truth 
of  the  one  seems,  for  that  very  bond,  to 
carry  with  it  the  credentials  of  the  other. 
Can  it  be  that  the  personal,  progressive 
West  is  wrong,  and  the  impersonal,  impas- 
sive East  right  ?  Surely  not.  Is  the  other 
side  of  the  world  in  advance  of  us  in  mind- 
development,  even  as  it  precedes  us  in  the 
time  of  day ;  or  just  as  our  noon  is  its 
night,  may  it  not  be  far  in  our  rear?  Is 
not  its  seeming  wisdom  rather  the  pre- 


INDIVID  UALIT  T.  25 

cociousness  of  what  is  destined  never  to  go 
far? 

Brought  suddenly  upon  such  a  civiliza- 
tion, after  the  blankness  of  a  long  ocean 
voyage,  one  is  reminded  instinctively  of  the 
feelings  of  that  bewildered  individual  who, 
after  a  dinner  at  which  he  had  eventually 
ceased  to  be  himself,  was  by  way  of  pleas- 
antry left  out  overnight  in  a  graveyard,  on 
their  way  home,  by  his  humorously  inclined 
companions  ;  and  who,  on  awaking  alone, 
in  a  still  dubious  condition,  looked  around 
him  in  surprise,  rubbed  his  eyes  two  or 
three  times  to  no  purpose,  and  finally  mut- 
tered in  a  tone  of  awe-struck  conviction, 
"  Well,  either  I  'm  the  first  to  rise,  or  I  'm 
a  long  way  behind  time !  " 

Whether  their  failure  to  follow  the  natu- 
ral course  of  evolution  results  in  bringing 
them  in  at  the  death  just  the  same  or  not, 
these  people  are  now,  at  any  rate,  station- 
ary not  very  far  from  the  point  at  which 
we  all  set  out.  They  are  still  in  that 
childish  state  of  development  before  self- 
consciousness  has  spoiled  the  sweet  simplic- 
ity of  nature.  An  impersonal  race  seems 
never  to  have  fully  grown  up. 

Partly  for  its  own  sake,  partly  for  ours, 


26     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

this  most  distinctive  feature  of  the  Far 
East,  its  marked  impersonality,  is  well 
worthy  particular  attention  ;  for  while  it 
collaterally  suggests  pregnant  thoughts 
about  ourselves,  it  directly  underlies  the 
deeper  oddities  of  a  civilization  which  is 
the  modern  eighth  wonder  of  the  world. 
We  shall  see  this  as  we  look  at  what 
these  people  are,  at  what  they  were,  and  at 
what  they  hope  to  become ;  not  histor- 
ically, but  psychologically,  as  one  might 
perceive,  were  he  but  wise  enough,  in  an 
acorn,  besides  the  nut  itself,  two  oaks,  that 
one  from  which  it  fell,  and  tlmt  other 
from  which  it  will  rise.  These  three  states, 
which  we  may  call  its  potential  past,  pres- 
ent, and  future,  may  be  observed  and  stud- 
ied in  three  special  outgrowths  of  a  race's 
character :  in  its  language,  in  its  every-day 
thoughts,  and  in  its  religion.  For  in  the 
language  of  a  people  we  find  embalmed 
the  spirit  of  its  past ;  in  its  every  -  day 
thoughts,  be  they  of  arts  or  sciences,  is 
wrapped  up  its  present  life ;  in  its  religion 
lie  enfolded  its  dreamings  of  a  future. 
From  out  each  of  these  three  subjects  in 
the  Far  East  impersonality  stares  us  in  the 
face.  Upon  this  quality  as  a  foundation 


INDIVIDUALITY.  27 

rests  the  Far  Oriental  character.  It  is 
individually  rather  than  nationally  that  I 
propose  to  scan  it  now.  It  is  the  action  of 
a  particle  in  the  wave  of  world  -  develop- 
ment I  would  watch,  rather  than  the  prop- 
agation of  the  wave  itself.  Inferences  about 
the  movement  of  the  whole  will  follow  of 
themselves  a  knowledge  of  the  motion  of 
its  parts. 

But  before  we  attack  the  subject  esoter- 
ically,  let  us  look  a  moment  at  the  man  as 
he  appears  in  his  relation  to  the  commu- 
nity. Such  a  glance  will  suggest  the  pecu- 
liar atmosphere  of  impersonality  that  per- 
vades the  people. 

However  lacking  in  cleverness,  in  merit, 
or  in  imagination  a  man  may  be,  there  are 
in  our  Western  world,  if  his  existence  there 
be  so  much  as  noticed  at  all,  three  occa- 
sions on  which  he  appears  in  print.  His 
birth,  his  marriage,  and  his  death  are  all 
duly  chronicled  in  type,  perhaps  as  suffi- 
ciently typical  of  the  general  unimportance 
of  his  life.  Mention  of  one's  birth,  it  is 
true,  is  an  aristocratic  privilege,  confined  to 
the  world  of  English  society.  In  demo- 
cratic America,  no  doubt  because  all  men 
there  are  supposed  to  be  born  free  and 


28          THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

equal,  we  ignore  the  first  event,  and  mention 
only  the  last  two  episodes,  about  which  our 
national  astuteness  asserts  no  such  effacing 
equality. 

Accepting  our  newspaper  record  as  a 
fair  enough  summary  of  the  biography  of 
an  average  man,  let  us  look  at  these  three 
momentous  occasions  in  the  career  of  a  Far 
Oriental. 


II. 

FAMILY. 


IN  the  first  place,  then,  the  poor  little 
Japanese  baby  is  ushered  into  this  world  in 
a  sadly  impersonal  manner,  for  he  is  not 
even  accorded  the  distinction  of  a  birthday. 
He  is  permitted  instead  only  the  much  less 
special  honor  of  a  birth-year.     Not  that  he 
begins  his  separate  existence  otherwise  than 
is  the  custom  of  mortals  generally,  at  a  defi- 
nite instant  of  time,  but  that  very  little  sub- 
sequent notice  is  ever  taken  of  the  fact.    On 
the  contrary,  from  the  moment  he  makes 
his  appearance  he  is  spoken  of  as  a  year 
old,  and  this  same  age  he  continues  to  be 
considered  in  most  simple  ease  of  calcula- 
tion, till  the  beginning  of  the  next  calendar 
year.     When  that  epoch  of  general  rejoic- 
ing  arrives,   he   is   credited   with   another 
year  himself.     So  is  everybody  else.     New 
Year's  day  is  a  common  birthday  for  the 
community,  a  sort  of  impersonal  anniver- 


30     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

sary  for  his  whole  world.  A  like  reckoning 
is  followed  in  China  and  Korea.  Upon  the 
disadvantages  of  being  considered  from 
one's  birth  up  at  least  one  year  and  pos- 
sibly two  older  than  one  really  is,  it  lies 
beyond  our  present  purpose  to  expatiate.  It 
is  quite  evident  that  woman  has  had  no  voice 
in  the  framing  of  such  a  chronology.  One 
would  hardly  imagine  that  man  had  either, 
so  astronomic  is  the  system.  A  commu- 
nistic age  is  however  but  an  unavoidable 
detail  of  the  general  scheme  whose  most 
suggestive  feature  consists  in  the  subordi- 
nation of  the  actual  birthday  of  the  indi- 
vidual to  the  fictitious  birthday  of  the 
community.  For  it  is  not  so  much  the 
want  of  commemoration  shown  the  subject 
as  the  character  of  the  commemoration 
which  is  significant.  Some  slight  notice  is 
indeed  paid  to  birthdays  during  early 
childhood,  but  even  then  their  observance 
is  quite  secondary  in  importance  to  that  of 
the  great  impersonal  anniversaries  of  the 
third  day  of  the  third  moon  and  the  fifth 
day  of  the  fifth  moon.  These  two  oc- 
casions celebrated  the  coming  of  human- 
ity into  the  world  with  an  impersonality 
worthy  of  the  French  revolutionary  calen- 


FAMILY.  31 

dar.  The  first  of  them  is  called  the  festi- 
val of  girls,  and  commemorates  the  birth  of 
girls  generally,  the  advent  of  the  universal 
feminine,  as  one  may  say.  The  second  is  a 
corresponding  anniversary  for  boys.  Owing 
to  its  sex,  the  latter  is  the  greater  event  of 
the  two,  and  in  consequence  of  its  most 
conspicuous  feature  is  styled  the  festival  of 
fishes.  The  fishes  are  hollow  paper  images 
of  the  "  tai  "  from  four  to  six  feet  in  length, 
tied  to  the  top  of  a  long  pole  planted  in 
the  ground  and  tipped  with  a  gilded  ball. 
Holes  in  the  paper  at  the  mouth  and  the  tail 
enable  the  wind  to  inflate  the  body  so  that 
it  floats  about  horizontally,  swaying  hither 
and  thither,  and  tugging  at  the  line  after 
the  manner  of  a  living  thing.  The  fish  are 
emblems  of  good  luck,  and  are  set  up  in  the 
courtyard  of  every  house  where  a  son  has 
been  born  during  the  year.  On  this  auspi- 
cious day  Tokio  is  suddenly  transformed 
into  eighty  square  miles  of  aquarium. 

For  any  more  personal  purpose  New 
Year's  day  eclipses  all  particular  anniversa- 
ries. Then  everybody  congratulates  every- 
body else  upon  everything  in  general,  and 
incidentally  upon  being  alive.  Such  sub- 
stitution of  an  abstract  for  a  concrete  birth- 


32    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

day,  although  exceedingly  convenient  for 
others,  must  at  least  conduce  to  self-forget- 
fulness  on  the  part  of  its  proper  possessor, 
and  tend  inevitably  to  merge  the  identity 
of  the  individual  in  that  of  the  community. 
It  fares  hardly  better  with  the  Far  Ori- 
ental in  the  matter  of  marriage.  Although 
he  is,  as  we  might  think,  the  person  most 
interested  in  the  result,  he  is  permitted  no 
say  in  the  affair  whatever.  In  fact,  it  is 
not  his  affair  at  all,  but  his  father's.  His 
hand  is  simply  made  a  cat's-paw  of.  The 
matter  is  entirely  a  business  transaction, 
entered  into  by  the  parent  and  conducted 
through  regular  marriage  brokers.  In  it 
he  plays  only  the  part  of  a  marionette. 
His  revenge  for  being  thus  bartered  out  of 
what  might  be  the  better  half  of  his  life, 
he  takes  eventually  on  the  next  succeeding 
generation. 

His  death  may  be  said  to  be  the  most 
important  act  of  his  whole  life.  For  then 
only  can  his  personal  existence  be  properly 
considered  to  begin.  By  it  he  joins  the 
great  company  of  ancestors  who  are  to  these 
people  of  almost  more  consequence  than 
living  folk,  and  of  much  more  individual 
distinction.  Particularly  is  this  the  case 


FAMILY.  33 

in  China  and  Korea,  but  the  same  respect, 
though  in  a  somewhat  less  rigid  form,  is 
paid  the  dead  in  Japan.  Then  at  last  the 
individual  receives  that  recognition  which 
was  denied  him  in  the  flesh.  In  Japan  a 
mortuary  tablet  is  set  up  to  him  in  the 
house  and  duly  worshipped ;  on  the  con- 
tinent the  ancestors  are  given  a  dwelling  of 
their  own,  and  even  more  devotedly  rever- 
enced. But  in  both  places  the  cult  is  any- 
thing but  funereal.  For  the  ancestral  tombs 
are  temples  and  pleasure  pavilions  at  the 
same  time,  consecrated  not  simply  to  rites 
and  ceremonies,  but  to  family  gatherings 
and  general  jollification.  And  the  fortu- 
nate defunct  must  feel,  if  he  is  still  half  as 
sentient  as  his  dutiful  descendants  suppose, 
that  his  earthly  life,  like  other  approved 
comedies,  has  ended  well. 

Important,  however,  as  these  critical 
points  in  his  career  may  be  reckoned  by 
his  relatives,  they  are  scarcely  calculated  to 
prove  equally  epochal  to  the  man  himself. 
In  a  community  where  next  to  no  note  is 
ever  taken  of  the  anniversary  of  his  birth, 
some  doubt  as  to  the  special  significance 
of  that  red-letter  day  may  not  unnaturally 
creep  into  his  own  mind.  While  in  regard 
to  his  death,  although  it  may  be  highly 


34     TEE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

flattering  for  him  to  know  that  he  will  cer- 
tainly become  somebody  when  he  shall  have 
ceased,  practically,  to  be  anybody,  such 
tardy  recognition  is  scarcely  timely  enough 
to  be  properly  appreciated.  Human  nature 
is  so  earth-tied,  after  all,  that  a  post-mun- 
dane existence  is  very  apt  to  seem  imma- 
terial as  well  as  be  so. 

With  the  old  familiar  landmarks  of  life 
obliterated  in  this  wholesale  manner,  it  is 
to  be  doubted  whether  one  of  us,  placed  in 
the  midst  of  such  a  civilization,  would  know 
himself.  He  certainly  would  derive  but 
scanty  satisfaction  from  the  recognition  if 
he  did.  Even  Nirvana  might  seem  a  happy 
limbo  by  comparison.  With  a  communal, 
not  to  say  a  cosmic,  birthday,  and  a  con- 
ventional wife,  he  might  well  deem  his 
separate  existence  the  shadow  of  a  shade 
and  embrace  Buddhism  from  mere  force  of 
circumstances. 

Further  investigation  would  not  shake 
his  opinion.  For  a  far-oriental  career  is 
thoroughly  in  keeping  with  these,  its  typi- 
cal turning-points.  From  one  end  of  its 
course  to  the  other  it  is  painfully  imper- 
sonal. In  its  regular  routine  as  in  its  more 
salient  junctures,  life  presents  itself  to  these 
races  a  totally  different  affair  from  what  it 


FAMILY.  35 

seems  to  us.  The  cause  lies  in  what  is 
taken  to  be  the  basis  of  socio-biology,  if 
one  may  so  express  it. 

In  the  Far  East  the  social  unit,  the  ulti- 
mate molecule  of  existence,  is  not  the  indi- 
vidual, but  the  family. 

We  occidentals  think  we  "value  family. 
We  even  parade  our  pretensions  so  promi- 
nently as  sometimes  to  tread  on  other  peo- 
ple's prejudices  of  a  like  nature.  Yet  we 
scarcely  seem  to  appreciate  the  inheritance. 
For  with  a  logic  which  does  us  questionable 
credit,  we  are  proud  of  our  ancestors  in 
direct  proportion  to  their  remoteness  from 
ourselves,  thus  permitting  Democracy  to 
revenge  its  insignificance  by  smiling  at  our 
self-imposed  satire.  To  esteem  a  man  in 
inverse  ratio  to  the  amount  of  remarkable 
blood  he  has  inherited  is,  to  say  the  least, 
bathetic.  Others,  again,  make  themselves 
objectionable  by  preferring  their  immediate 
relatives  to  all  less  connected  companions, 
and  cling  to  their  cousins  so  closely  that 
affection  often  culminates  in  matrimony, 
nature's  remonstrances  notwithstanding. 
But  with  all  the  pride  or  pleasure  which 
we  take  in  the  members  of  our  particular 
clan,  our  satisfaction  really  springs  from 
viewing  them  on  an  autocentric  theory  of 


36  THE  SOUL    OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  social  system.     In  our  own  eyes  we  are 
the  star  about  which,  as  in  Joseph's  dream, 
our  relatives  revolve  and  upon  which  they 
help  to  shed  an  added  lustre.     Our  Ptole- 
maic theory  of   society  is  necessitated  by 
our  tenacity   to   the  personal   standpoint. 
This  fixed  idea  of  ours  causes  all  else  seem- 
ingly to  rotate  about  it.     Such  an  egoistic 
conception  is  quite  foreign  to  our  longitu- 
dinal  antipodes.     However    much   appear- 
ances may  agree,  the  fundamental  principles 
upon  which  family  consideration  is  based 
are  widely  different  in  the  two  hemispheres. 
For  the  far-eastern  social  universe  turns  on 
a  patricentric  pivot. 

Upon  the  conception  of  the  family  as  the 
social  and  political  unit  depends  the  whole 
constitution  of  China.  The  same  theory 
somewhat  modified  constitutes  the  life-prin- 
ciple of  Korea,  of  Japan,  and  of  their  less  ad- 
vanced cousins  who  fill  the  vast  centre  of  the 
Asiatic  continent.  From  the  emperor  on  his 
throne  to  the  common  coolie  in  his  hovel  it 
is  the  idea  of  kinship  that  knits  the  entire 
body  politic  together.  The  Empire  is  one 
great  family ;  the  family  is  a  little  empire. 

The  one  developed  out  of  the  other.  The 
patriarchal  is,  as  is  well  known,  probably 
the  oldest  political  system  in  the  world. 


FAMILY.  37 

All  nations  may  be  said  to  have  experi- 
enced such  a  paternal  government,  but  most 
nations  outgrew  it. 

Now  the  interesting  fact  about  the  yellow 
branch  of  the  human  race  is,  not  that  they 
had  so  juvenile  a  constitution,  but  that  they 
have  it;  that  it  has  persisted  practically 
unchanged  from  prehistoric  ages.  It  is 
certainly  surprising  in  this  kaleidoscopic 
world  whose  pattern  is  constantly  changing 
as  time  merges  one  combination  of  its  ele- 
ments into  another,  that  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe  this  set  should  have  remained 
the  same.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  lapse  of 
years,  in  spite  of  the  altered  conditions  of 
existence,  in  spite  of  an  immense  advance 
in  civilization,  such  a  primitive  state  of 
society  has  continued  there  to  the  present 
day,  in  all  its  essentials  what  it  was  when 
as  nomads  the  race  forefathers  wandered 
peacefully  or  otherwise  over  the  plains  of 
Central  Asia.  The  principle  helped  them 
to  expand;  it  has  simply  cramped  them 
ever  since.  For,  instead  of  dissolving  like 
other  antiquated  views,  it  has  become,  what 
it  was  bound  to  become  if  it  continued  to 
last,  crystallized  into  an  institution.  It 
had  pi'actically  reached  this  condition  when 
it  received  a  theoretical,  not  to  say  a  theo- 


38     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

logical  recognition  which  gave  it  mundane 
immortality.  A  couple  of  millenniums  ago 
Confucius  consecrated  filial  duty  by  mak- 
ing it  the  basis  of  the  Chinese  moral  code. 
His  hand  was  the  finishing  touch  of  fossil- 
ification.  For  since  the  sage  set  his  seal 
upon  the  system  no  one  has  so  much  as 
dreamt  of  changing  it.  The  idea  of  con- 
futing Confucius  would  be  an  act  of  impiety 
such  as  no  Chinaman  could  possibly  com- 
mit. Not  that  the  inadmissibility  of  argu- 
ment is  due  really  to  the  authority  of  the 
philosopher,  but  that  it  lies  ingrained  in 
the  character  of  the  people.  Indeed  the 
genius  of  the  one  may  be  said  to  have  con- 
sisted in  divining  the  genius  of  the  other. 
Confucius  formulated  the  prevailing  prac- 
tice, and  in  so  doing  helped  to  make  it  per- 
petual. He  gave  expression  to  the  national 
feeling,  and  like  expressions,  generally  his, 
served  to  stamp  the  idea  all  the  more  in- 
delibly upon  the  national  consciousness. 

In  this  manner  the  family  from  a  natural 
relation  grew  into  a  highly  unnatural  social 
anachronism.  The  loose  ties  of  a  roving 
life  became  fetters  of  a  fixed  convention- 
ality. Bonds  originally  of  mutual  advan- 
tage hardened  into  restrictions  by  which 
the  young  were  hopelessly  tethered  to  the 


FAMILY.  39 

old.  Midway  in  its  course  the  race  under- 
took to  turn  round  and  face  backwards,  as 
it  journeyed  on.  Its  subsequent  advance 
could  be  nothing  but  slow. 

The  head  of  a  family  is  so  now  in  some- 
thing of  a  corporeal  sense.  From  him 
emanate  all  its  actions ;  to  him  are  respon- 
sible all  its  parts.  Any  other  member  of 
it  is  as  incapable  of  individual  expression 
as  is  the  hand,  or  the  foot,  or  the  eye  of 
man.  Indeed,  Confucian  doctors  of  divin- 
ity might  appropriately  administer  psychi- 
cally to  the  egoistic  the  rebuke  of  the 
Western  physician  to  the  too  self-analytic 
youth  who,  finding  that,  after  eating,  his 
digestion  failed  to  give  him  what  he  consid- 
ered its  proper  sensations,  had  come  to  con- 
sult the  doctor  as  to  how  it  ought  to  feel. 
"  Feel !  young  man,"  he  was  answered, 
"  you  ought  not  to  be  aware  that  you  have 
a  digestion."  So  with  them,  a  normally 
constituted  son  knows  not  what  it  is  to 
possess  a  spontaneity  of  his  own.  Indeed, 
this  very  word  "  own,"  which  so  long  ago 
in  our  own  tongue  took  to  itself  the  symbol 
of  possession,  well  exemplifies  his  depen- 
dent state.  China  furnishes  the  most  con- 
spicuous instance  of  the  want  of  individual 
rights.  A  Chinese  son  cannot  properly  be 


40  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

said  to  own  anything.  The  title  to  the 
land  he  tills  is  vested  absolutely  in  the  fam- 
ily, of  which  he  is  an  undivided  thirtieth, 
or  what-not.  Even  the  administration  of 
the  property  is  not  his,  but  resides  in  the 
family,  represented  by  its  head.  The  out- 
ward symbols  of  ownership  testify  to  the 
fact.  The  bourns  that  mark  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  fields  bear  the  names  of  fami- 
lies, not  of  individuals.  The  family,  as 
such,  is  the  proprietor,  and  its  lands  are 
cultivated  and  enjoyed  in  common  by  all 
the  constituents  of  the  clan.  In  the  ten- 
ure of  its  real  estate,  the  Chinese  family 
much  resembles  the  Russian  Mir.  But  so 
far  as  his  personal  state  is  concerned,  the 
Chinese  son  outslaves  the  Slav.  For  he 
lives  at  home,  under  the  immediate  control 
of  the  paternal  will  —  in  the  most  complete 
of  serfdoms,  a  filial  one.  Even  existence 
becomes  a  communal  affair.  From  the 
family  mansion,  or  set  of  mansions,  in 
which  all  its  members  dwell,  to  the  family 
mausoleum,  to  which  they  will  all  eventu- 
ally be  borne,  a  man  makes  his  life  journey 
in  strict  company  with  his  kin. 

A  man's  life  is  thus  but  an  undivisible 
fraction  of  the  family  life.      How  essen- 


FAMILY.  41 

tially  so   will   appear  from   the   following 
slight  sketch  of  it. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  his  birth  is  a 
very  important  event  —  for  the  household, 
at  which  no  one  fails  to  rejoice  except  the 
new-comer.  He  cries.  The  general  joy, 
however,  depends  somewhat  upon  his  sex. 
If  the  baby  chances  to  be  a  boy,  every- 
body is  immensely  pleased  ;  if  a  girl,  there 
is  considerably  less  effusion  shown.  In 
the  latter  case  the  more  impulsive  rela- 
tives are  unmistakably  sorry ;  the  more 
philosophic  evidently  hope  for  better  luck 
next  time.  Both  kinds  make  very  pretty 
speeches,  which  not  even  the  speakers  be- 
lieve, for  in  the  babe  lottery  the  family  is 
considered  to  have  drawn  a  blank.  A 
delight  so  engendered  proves  how  little  of 
the  personal,  even  in  prospective,  attaches 
to  its  object.  The  reason  for  the  invidious 
distinction  in  the  matter  of  sex  lies  of 
course  in  an  inordinate  desire  for  the  per- 
petuation of  the  family  line.  The  unfortu- 
nate infant  is  regarded  merely  in  the  light 
of  a  possible  progenitor.  A  boy  is  already 
potentially  a  father ;  whereas  a  girl,  if  she 
marry  at  all,  is  bound  to  marry  out  of  her 
own  family  into  another,  and  is  relatively 


42     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

lost.  The  full  force  of  the  deprivation  is, 
however,  to  some  degree  tempered  by  the 
almost  infinite  possibilities  of  adoption. 
Daughters  are,  therefore,  not  utterly  unmiti- 
gable  evils. 

From  the  privacy  of  the  domestic  circle, 
the  infant's  entrance  into  public  life  is  per- 
formed pick-a-back.  Strapped  securely  to 
the  shoulders  of  a  slightly  older  sister,  out 
he  goes,  consigned  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
a  being  who  is  scarcely  more  than  a  baby 
herself.  The  diminutiveness  of  the  nurse- 
perambulators  is  the  most  surprising  part 
of  the  performance.  The  tiniest  of  tots 
may  be  seen  thus  toddling  round  with 
burdens  half  their  own  size.  Like  the  dot 
upon  the  little  i,  the  baby's  head  seems  a 
natural  part  of  their  childish  ego. 

An  economy  of  the  kind  in  the  matter  of 
nurses  is  highly  suggestive.  That  it  should 
be  practicable  thus  to  entrust  one  infant  to 
another  proves  the  precociousness  of  chil- 
dren. But  this  surprising  maturity  of  the 
young  implies  by  a  law  too  well  known 
to  need  explanation,  the  consequent  imma- 
turity of  the  race.  That  which  has  less 
to  grow  up  to,  naturally  grows  up  to  its 
limit  sooner.  It  may  even  be  questioned 


FAMIL  Y.  43 

whether  it  does  not  do  so  with  the  more 
haste  ;  on  the  same  principle  that  a  runner 
who  has  less  distance  to  travel  not  only 
accomplishes  his  course  quicker,  but  moves 
with  relatively  greater  speed,  or  as  a  small 
planet  grows  old  not  simply  sooner,  but 
comparatively  faster  than  a  larger  one. 
Jupiter  is  still  in  his  fiery  youth,  while  the 
moon  is  senile  in  decrepid  old  age,  and  yet 
his  separate  existence  began  long  before 
hers.  Either  hypothesis  will  explain  the 
abnormally  early  development  of  the  Chi- 
nese race,  and  its  subsequent  career  of  in- 
activity. Meanwhile  the  youthful  nurse,  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  the  evidence  which 
her  present  precocity  affords  against  her 
future  possibilities,  pursues  her  sports  with 
intermittent  attention  to  her  charge,  whose, 
poor  little  head  lolls  about,  now  on  one  side 
and  now  on  the  other,  in  a  most  distress- 
ingly loose  manner,  an  uninterested  specta- 
tor of  the  proceedings. 

As  soon  as  the  babe  gets  a  trifle  bigger 
he  ceases  to  be  ministered  to  and  begins  his 
long  course  of  ministering  to  others.  His 
home  life  consists  of  attentive  subordina- 
tion. The  relation  his  obedience  bears  to 
that  of  children  elsewhere  is  paralleled  per- 


44     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

haps  sufficiently  by  the  comparative  im- 
portance attached  to  precepts  on  the  sub- 
ject in  the  respective  moral  codes.  The 
commandment  "honor  thy  father"  forms 
a  tithe  of  the  Mosaic  law,  while  the  same 
injunction  constitutes  at  least  one  half  of 
the  Confucian  precepts.  To  the  Chinese 
child  all  the  parental  commands  are  not 
simply  law  to  the  letter,  they  are  to  be  an- 
ticipated in  the  spirit.  To  do  what  he  is 
told  is  but  the  merest  fraction  of  his  duty ; 
theoretically  his  only  thought  is  how  to 
serve  his  sire.  The  pious  JEneas  escaping 
from  Troy  exemplifies  his  conduct  when 
it  comes  to  a  question  of  domestic  prece- 
dence, —  whose  first  care,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, was  for  his  father,  his  next  for  his 
son,  and  his  last  for  his  wife.  He  lost  his 
wife,  it  may  be  noted  in  passing.  Filial 
piety  is  the  greatest  of  Chinese  virtues. 
Indeed,  an  undutiful  son  is  a  monstrosity, 
a  case  of  moral  deformity.  It  could  now 
hardly  be  otherwise.  For  a  father  sums 
up  in  propria  persona  a  whole  pedigree  of 
patriarchs  whose  superimposed  weight  of 
authority  is  practically  divine.  This  con- 
dition of  servitude  is  never  outgrown  by 
the  individual,  as  it  has  never  been  out- 
grown by  the  race. 


FAMILY.  45 

Our  boy  now  begins  to  go  to  school;  to 
a  day  school,  it  need  hardly  be  specified,  for 
a  boarding  school  would  be  entirely  out  of 
keeping  with  the  family  life.  Here,  he  is 
given  the  "  Trimetrical  Classic  "  to  start 
on,  that  he  may  learn  the  characters  by 
heart,  picking  up  incidentally  what  ideas 
he  may.  This  book  is  followed  by  the 
"  Century  of  Surnames,"  a  catalogue  of  all 
the  clan  names  in  China,  studied  like  the 
last  for  the  sake  of  the  characters,  although 
the  suggestion  of  the  importance  of  the 
family  contained  in  it  is  probably  not  lost 
upon  his  youthful  mind.  Next  comes  the 
"  Thousand  Character  Classic,"  a  wonder- 
ful epic  as  a  feat  of  skill,  for  of  the  thou- 
sand characters  which  it  contains  not  a  sin- 
gle one  is  repeated,  an  absence  of  tautol- 
ogy not  properly  appreciated  by  the  en- 
forced reader.  Reminiscences  of  our  own 
school  days  vividly  depict  the  consequent 
disgust,  instead  of  admiration,  of  the  boy. 
Three  more  books  succeed  these  first 
volumes,  differing  from  one  another  in 
form,  but  in  substance  singularly  alike, 
treating,  as  they  all  do,  of  history  and  eth- 
ics combined.  For  tales  and  morals  are 
inseparably  associated  by  pious  antiquity. 


46  THE  SOUL   OF   THE  FAR  EAST. 

Indeed,  the  past  would  seem  to  have  lived 
with  special  reference  to  the  edification  of 
the  future.  Chinamen  were  abnormally 
virtuous  in  those  golden  days,  barring  the 
few  unfortunates  whom  fate  needed  as 
warning  examples  of  depravity  for  succeed- 
ing ages.  Except  for  the  fact  that  instruc- 
tion as  to  a  future  life  forms  no  part  of  the 
curriculum,  a  far-eastern  education  may  be 
said  to  consist  of  Sunday-school  every  day 
in  the  week.  For  no  occasion  is  lost  by 
the  erudite  authors,  even  in  the  most 
worldly  portions  of  their  work,  for  preach- 
ing a  slight  homily  on  the  subject  in  hand. 
The  dictum  of  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus 
that  "  history  is  philosophy  teaching  by 
example "  would  seem  there  to  have  be- 
come modified  into  "history  is  filiosophy 
teaching  by  example."  For  in  the  instruc- 
tive anecdotes  every  other  form  of  merit  is 
depicted  as  second  to  that  of  being  a  dutiful 
son.  To  the  practice  of  that  supreme  vir- 
tue all  other  considerations  are  sacrificed. 
The  student's  aim  is  thus  kept  single. 
At  every  turn  of  the  leaves,  paragons  of 
filial  piety  shame  the  youthful  reader  to 
the  pitch  of  emulation  by  the  epitaphic 
records  of  their  deeds.  Portraits  of  the 


FAMILY.  47 

past,  possibly  colored,  present  that  estima- 
ble trait  in  so  exalted  a  type  that  to  any 
less  filial  a  people  they  would  simply  deter 
competition.  Yet  the  boy  implicitly  be- 
lieves and  no  doubt  resolves  to  rival  what 
he  reads.  A  specimen  or  two  will  amply 
suggest  the  rest.  In  one  tale  the  hero  is 
held  up  to  the  unqualified  admiration  of  pos- 
terity for  having  starved  to  death  his  son,  in 
an  extreme  case  of  family  destitution,  for 
the  sake  of  providing  food  enough  for  his 
aged  father.  In  another  he  unhesitatingly 
divorces  his  wife  for  having  dared  to  poke 
fun,  in  the  shape  of  bodkins,  at  some 
wooden  effigies  of  his  parents  which  he  had 
had  set  up  in  the  house  for  daily  devotional 
contemplation.  Finally  another  paragon 
actually  sells  himself  in  perpetuity  as  a  slave 
that  he  may  thus  procure  the  wherewithal 
to  bury  with  due  honor  his  anything  but 
worthy  progenitor,  who  had  first  cheated  his 
neighbors  and  then  squandered  his  ill-got- 
ten gains  in  riotous  living.  Of  these  tales, 
as  of  certain  questionable  novels  in  a 
slightly  different  line,  the  eventual  moral 
is  considered  quite  competent  to  redeem 
the  general  immorality  of  the  plot. 

Along  such   a   curriculum   the  youthful 


48     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Chinaman  is  made  to  run.  A  very  similar 
system  prevails  in  Japan,  the  difference  be- 
tween the  two  consisting  in  quantity  rather 
than  quality.  The  books  in  the  two  cases 
are  much  the  same,  and  the  amount  read 
differs  surprisingly  little  when  we  consider 
that  in  the  one  case  it  is  his  own  classics 
the  student  is  reading,  in  the  other  the 
Chinaman's. 

If  he  belong  to  the  middle  class,  as  soon 
as  his  schooling  is  over  he  is  set  to  learn 
his  father's  trade.  To  undertake  to  learn 
any  trade  but  his  father's  would  strike 
the  family  as  simply  preposterous.  Why 
should  he  adopt  another  line  of  business  ? 
And,  if  he  did,  what  other  business  should 
he  adopt?  Is  his  father's  occupation  not 
already  there,  a  part  of  the  existing  or- 
der of  things  ;  and  is  he  not  the  son  of  bis 
father  and  heir  therefore  of  the  paternal 
skill  ?  Not  that  such  inherited  aptness  is 
recognized  scientifically ;  it  is  simply  taken 
for  granted  instinctively.  It  is  but  a  half- 
hearted intuition,  however,  for  the  possibil- 
ity of  an  inheritance  from  the  mother's  side 
is  as  out  of  the  question  as  if  her  severance 
from  her  own  family  had  an  ex  post  facto 
effect.  As  for  his  individual  predilection 


FAMILY.  49 

in  the  matter,  nature  has  considerately  con- 
formed to  custom  by  giving  him  none.  He 
becomes  a  cabinet-maker,  for  instance,  be- 
cause his  ancestors  always  have  been  cabi- 
net-makers. He  inherits  the  family  busi- 
ness as  a  necessary  part  of  the  family  name. 
He  is  born  to  his  trade,  not  naturally  se- 
lected because  of  his  fitness  for  it.  But  he 
usually  is  amply  qualified  for  the  position, 
for  generations  of  practice,  if  only  on  one 
side  of  the  house,  accumulate  a  vast  deal 
of  technical  skill.  The  result  of  this  sys- 
tem of  clan  guilds  in  all  branches  of  indus- 
try is  sufficiently  noticeable.  The  almost 
infinite  superiority  of  Japanese  artisans  over 
their  European  fellow-craftsmen  is  world- 
known.  On  the  other  hand  the  tendency  of 
the  occupation  in  the  abstract  to  swallow  up 
the  individual  in  the  concrete  is  as  evident 
to  theory  as  it  is  patent  in  practice.  Event- 
ually the  man  is  lost  in  the  manner.  The 
very  names  of  trades  express  the  fact.  The 
Japanese  word  for  cabinet-maker,  for  exam- 
pie,  means  literally  cutting-thing-house,  and 
is  now  applied  as  distinctively  to  the  man 
as  to  his  shop.  Nominally  as  well  as  prac- 
tically the  youthful  Japanese  artisan  makes 
his  introduction  to  the  world,  much  after 


50     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  manner  of  the  hero  of  Lecocq's  comic 
opera,  the  son  of  the  house  of  Marasquin  et 
Cie.  • 

If  instead  of  belonging  to  the  lower  mid- 
dle class  our  typical  youth  be  born  of  bluer 
blood,  or  if  he  be  filled  with  the  same  de- 
sires as  if  he  were  so  descended,  he  be- 
comes a  student.  Having  failed  to  discover 
in  the  school-room  the  futility  of  his  coun- 
try's self-vaunted  learning,  he  proceeds  to 
devote  his  life  to  its  pursuit.  With  an  ap- 
plication which  is  eminently  praiseworthy, 
even  if  its  object  be  not,  he  sets  to  work  to 
steep  himself  in  the  classics  till  he  can  per- 
ceive no  merit  in  anything  else.  As  might 
be  suspected,  he  ends  by  discovering  in  the 
sayings  of  the  past  more  meaning  than  the 
simple  past  ever  dreamed  of  putting  there. 
He  becomes  more  Confucian  than  Confu- 
cius. Indeed,  it  is  fortunate  for  the  repu- 
tation of  the  sage  that  he  cannot  return  to 
earth,  for  he  might  disagree  to  his  detri- 
ment with  his  own  commentators. 

Such  is  the  state  of  things  in  China  and 
Korea.  Learning,  however,  is  not  depend- 
ent solely  on  individual  interest  for  its 
wonderfully  flourishing  condition  in  the 
Middle  Kingdom,  for  the  government  abets 


FAMILY.  51 

the  practice  to  its  utmost.  It  is  itself  the 
supreme  sanction,  for  its  posts  are  the 
prizes  of  proficiency.  Through  the  study 
of  the  classics  lies  the  only  entrance  to  po- 
litical power.  To  become  a  mandarin  one 
must  have  passed  a  series  of  competitive 
examinations  on  these  very  subjects,  and 
competition  in  this  impersonal  field  is  most 
keen.  For  while  popular  enthusiasm  for 
philosophy  for  philosophy's  sake  might, 
among  any  people,  eventually  show  symp- 
toms of  fatigue,  it  is  not  likely  to  flag 
where  the  outcome  of  it  is  so  substantial. 
Erudition  carries  there  all  earthly  emolu- 
ments in  its  train.  For  the  man  who  can 
write  the  most  scholastic  essay  on  the  clas- 
sics is  forthwith  permitted  to  amass  much 
honor  and  more  wealth  by  wronging  his 
less  accomplished  fellow-citizens.  China  is 
a  student's  paradise  where  the  possession  of 
learning  is  instantly  convertible  into  un- 
limited pelf. 

In  Japan  the  study  of  the  classics  was 
never  pursued  professionally.  It  was,  how- 
ever, prosecuted  with  much  zeal  en  amateur. 
The  Chinese  bureaucratic  system  has  been 
wanting.  For  in  spite  of  her  students,  un- 
til within  thirty  years  Japan  slumbered  still 


52     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

in  the  Knight-time  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
so  long  as  a  man  carried  about  with  him  con- 
tinually two  beautiful  swords  he  felt  it  in- 
cumbent upon  him  to  use  them.  The  happy 
days  of  knight-errantry  have  passed.  These 
same  cavaliers  of  Samurai  are  now  thank- 
ful to  police  the  streets  in  spectacles  neces- 
sitated by  the  too  diligent  study  of  German 
text,  and  arrest  chance  disturbers  of  the 
public  peace  for  a  miserably  small  salary 
per  month. 

Our  youth  has  now  reached  the  flower- 
ing season  of  life,  that  brief  May  time  when 
the  whole  world  takes  on  the  rose-tint,  and 
when  by  all  dramatic  laws  he  ought  to  fall 
in  love.  He  does  nothing  of  the  kind. 
Sad  to  say,  he  is  a  stranger  to  the  feeling. 
Love,  as  we  understand  the  word,  is  a  thing 
unknown  to  the  Far  East ;  fortunately,  in- 
deed, for  the  possession  there  of  the  tender 
passion  would  be  worse  than  useless.  Its 
indulgence  would  work  no  end  of  disturb- 
ance to  the  community  at  large,  beside 
entailing  much  misery  upon  its  individ- 
ual victim.  Its  exercise  would  probably 
be  classed  with  kleptomania  and  other  like 
excesses  of  purely  personal  consideration. 
The  community  could  never  permit  the 


FAMILY.  53 

practice,  for  it  strikes  at  the  very  root  of 
tbeir  whole  social  system. 

The  immense  loss  in  happiness  to  these 
people  in  consequence  of  the  omission  by 
the  too  parsimonious  Fates  of  that  thread, 
which,  with  us,  weaves  the  whole  of  wo- 
man's web  of  life,  and  at  least  makes  the 
warp  of  man's,  is  but  incidental  to  the  pres- 
ent subject ;  the  effect  of  the  loss  upon  the 
individuality  of  the  person  himself  is  what 
concerns  us  now. 

If  there  is  one  moment  in  a  man's  life 
when  his  interest  for  the  world  at  large 
pales  before  the  engrossing  character  of  his 
own  emotions,  it  is  assuredly  when  that 
man  first  falls  in  love.  Then,  if  never  be- 
fore, the  world  within  excludes  the  world 
without.  For  of  all  our  human  passions 
none  is  so  isolating  as  the  tenderest.  To 
shut  that,  our  other  being,  in,  we  must  of  ne- 
cessity shut  all  the  rest  of  mankind  out ;  and 
we  do  so  with  a  reckless  trust  in  our  own 
self-sufficiency  which  has  about  it  a  touch 
of  the  sublime.  The  other  millions  are  as 
though  they  were  not,  and  we  two  are  alone 
in  the  earth,  which  suddenly  seems  to  have 
grown  unprecedentedly  beautiful.  Indeed, 
it  only  needs  such  judicious  depopulation  to 


54    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

make  of  any  spot  an  Eden.  Perhaps  the 
early  Jewish  myth-makers  had  some  such 
thought  in  mind  when  they  wrote  their  idyl 
of  the  cosmogony.  The  human  traits  are 
true  to-day.  Then  at  last  our  souls  throw 
aside  their  conventional  wrappings  to  stand 
revealed  as  they  really  are.  Certain  of  com- 
prehension, the  thoughts  we  have  never 
dared  breathe  to  any  one  before,  find  a 
tongue  for  her  who  seems  fore-destined  to 
understand.  The  long-closed  floodgates  of 
feeling  are  thrown  wide,  and  our  personal- 
ity, pent  up  from  the  time  of  its  inception 
for  very  mistrust,  sweeps  forth  in  one  uncon- 
trollable rush.  For  then  the  most  reticent 
becomes  confiding ;  the  most  self-contained 
expands.  Then  every  detail  of  our  past 
lives  assumes  an  importance  which  even  we 
had  not  divined.  To  her  we  tell  them  all,  — 
our  boyish  beliefs,  our  youthful  fancies,  the 
foolish  with  the  fine,  the  witty  with  the 
wise,  the  little  with  the  great.  Nothing 
then  seems  quite  unworthy,  as  nothing 
seems  quite  worthy  enough.  Flowers  and 
weeds  that  we  plucked  upon  our  pathway, 
we  heap  them  in  her  lap,  certain  that  even 
the  poorest  will  not  be  tossed  aside.  Small 
wonder  that  we  bring  as  many  as  we  may 


FAMILY.  55 

when  she  bends  her  head  so  lovingly  to 
each. 

As  our  past  rises  in  reminiscence  with  all 
its  oldtirae  reality,  no  less  clearly  does  our 
future  stand  out  to  us  in  mirage.  What 
we  would  be  seems  as  realizable  as  what  we 
were.  Seen  by  another  beside  ourselves, 
our  castles  in  the  air  take  on  something  of 
the  substance  of  stereoscopic  sight.  Our 
airiest  fancies  seem  solid  facts  for  their  re- 
ality to  her,  and  gilded  by  lovelight,  they 
glitter  and  sparkle  like  a  true  palace  of  the 
East.  For  once  all  is  possible ;  nothing  lies 
beyond  our  reach.  And  as  we  talk,  and 
she  listens,  we  two  seem  to  be  floating  off 
into  an  empyrean  of  our  own  like  the  sum- 
mer clouds  above  our  heads,  as  they  sail 
dreamily  on  into  the  far-away  depths  of  the 
unfathomable  sky. 

It  would  be  more  than  mortal  not  to  be- 
lieve in  ourselves  when  another  believes  so 
absolutely  in  us.  Our  most  secret  thoughts 
are  no  longer  things  to  be  ashamed  of,  for 
she  has  sanctioned  them.  Whatever  doubt 
may  have  shadowed  us  as  to  our  own  im- 
aginings disappears  before  the  smile  of  her 
appreciation.  That  her  appreciation  may 
be  prejudiced  is  not  a  possibility  we  think 


56  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

of  then.  She  understands  us,  or  seems  to 
do  so  to  our  own  better  understanding  of 
ourselves.  Happy  the  man  who  is  thus  un- 
derstood! Happy  even  he  who  imagines 
that  he  is,  because  of  her  eager  wish  to  com- 
prehend ;  fortunate,  indeed,  if  in  this  one 
respect  he  never  comes  to  see  too  clearly. 

No  such  blissful  infatuation  falls  to  the 
lot  of  the  Far  Oriental.  He  never  is  the 
dupe  of  his  own  desire,  the  willing  victim 
of  his  self-illusion.  He  is  never  tempted  to 
reveal  himself,  and  by  thus  revealing,  real- 
ize. No  loving  appreciation  urges  him  on 
toward  the  attainment  of  his  own  ideal. 
That  incitement  to  be  what  he  would  seem 
to  be,  to  become  what  she  deems  becoming, 
he  fails  to  feel.  Custom  has  so  far  fettered 
fancy  that  even  the  wish  to  communicate 
has  vanished.  He  has  now  nothing  to  tell ; 
she  needs  no  ear  to  hear.  For  she  is  not 
his  love  ;  she  is  only  his  wife,  —  what  is  left 
of  a  romance  when  the  romance  is  left  out. 
Worse  still,  she  never  was  anything  else. 
He  has  not  so  much  as  a  memory  of  her,  for 
he  did  not  marry  her  for  love ;  he  may  not 
love  of  his  own  accord,  nor  for  the  matter 
of  that  does  he  wish  to  do  so.  If  by  some 
mischance  he  should  so  far  forget  to  forget 


FAMILY.  57 

himself,  it  were  much  better  for  him  had  he 
not  done  so,  for  the  choice  of  a  bride  is  not 
his,  nor  of  a  bridegroom  hers.  Marriage  to 
a  Far  Oriental  is  the  most  important  mer- 
cantile transaction  of  his  whole  life.  It  is, 
therefore,  far  too  weighty  a  matter  to  be 
entrusted  to  his  youthful  indiscretion ;  for 
although  the  person  herself  is  of  lamentably 
little  account  in  the  bargain,  the  character 
of  her  worldly  circumstances  is  most  mate- 
rial to  it.  So  she  is  contracted  for  with  the 
same  care  one  would  exercise  in  the  choice 
of  any  staple  business  commodity.  The 
particular  sample  is  not  vital  to  the  trade, 
but  the  grade  of  goods  is.  She  is  selected 
much  as  the  bride  of  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  chose  her  wedding- gown,  only  that 
the  one  was  at  least  cut  to  suit,  while  the 
other  is  not.  It  is  certainly  easier,  if  less 
fitting,  to  get  a  wife  as  some  people  do 
clothes,  not  to  their  own  order,  but  ready 
made ;  all  the  more  reason  when  the  bar- 
gain is  for  one's  son,  not  one's  self.  So  the 
Far  East,  which  looks  at  the  thing  from  a 
strictly  paternal  standpoint  and  ignores 
such  trifles  as  personal  preferences,  takes 
its  boy  to  the  broker's  and  fits  him  out. 
That  the  object  of  such  parental  care  does 


58  THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

not  end  by  murdering  his  unfortunate 
spouse  or  making  way  with  himself  sug- 
gests how  dead  already  is  that  individuality 
which  we  deem  to  be  of  the  very  essence  of 
the  affair. 

Marriage  is  thus  a  species  of  investment 
contracted  by  the  existing  family  for  the 
sake  of  the  prospective  one,  the  actual  par- 
ticipants being  only  lay  figures  in  the 
affair.  Sometimes  the  father  decides  the 
matter  himself ;  sometimes  he  or  the  rela- 
tive who  stands  in  loco  parentis  calls  for  a 
plebiscit  on  the  subject ;  for  such  an  ex- 
tension of  the  suffrage  has  gradually  crept 
even  into  patriarchal  institutions.  The 
family  then  assemble,  sit  in  solemn  con- 
clave on  the  question,  and  decide  it  by 
vote.  Of  course  the  interested  parties  are 
not  asked  their  opinion,  as  it  might  be  pre- 
judiced. The  result  of  the  conference  must 
be  highly  gratifying.  To  have  one's  wife 
chosen  for  one  by  vote  of  one's  relatives 
cannot  but  be  satisfactory  —  to  the  electors. 
The  outcome  of  this  ballot,  like  that  of  uni- 
versal suffrage  elsewhere,  is  at  the  best  un- 
objectionable mediocrity.  Somehow  such 
a  result  does  not  seem  quite  to  fulfil  one's 
ideal  of  a  wife.  It  is  true  that  the  upper 


FAMILY.  59 

classes  of  impersonal  France  practise  this 
method  of  marital  selection,  their  conseils 
de  famille  furnishing  in  some  sort  a  par- 
allel. But,  as  is  well  known,  matrimony 
among  these  same  upper  classes  is  largely 
form  devoid  of  substance.  It  begins  im- 
pressively with  a  dual  ceremony,  the  civil 
contract,  which  amounts  to  a  contract  of 
civility  between  the  parties,  and  a  religious 
rite  to  render  the  same  perpetual,  and  there 
it  is  too  apt  to  end. 

So  much  for  the  immediate  influence  on 
the  man ;  the  eventual  effect  on  the  race 
remains  to  be  considered.  Now,  if  the  first 
result  be  anything,  the  second  must  in  the 
end  be  everything.  For  however  trifling 
it  be  in  the  individual  instance,  it  goes  on 
accumulating  with  each  successive  genera- 
tion, like  compound  interest.  The  choosing 
of  a  wife  by  family  suffrage  is  not  simply 
an  exponent  of  the  impersonal  state  of 
things,  it  is  a  power  toward  bringing  such 
a  state  of  things  about.  A  hermit  seldom 
develops  to  his  full  possibilities,  and  the 
domestic  variety  is  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
A  man  who  is  linked  to  some  one  that 
toward  him  remains  a  cipher  lacks  sur- 
roundings inciting  to  psychological  growth, 


60  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

nor  is  he  more  favorably  circumstanced  be- 
cause all  his  ancestors  have  been  similarly 
circumscribed. 

As  if  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
natural  selection  here  steps  in  to  further 
the  process.  To  prove  this  with  all  the 
rigidity  of  demonstration  desirable  is  in  the 
present  state  of  erotics  beyond  our  power. 
Until  our  family  trees  give  us  something 
more  than  mere  skeletons  of  dead  branches, 
we  must  perforce  continue  ignorant  of  the 
science  of  grafts.  For  the  nonce  we  must 
be  content  to  generalize  from  our  own 
premises,  only  rising  above  them  sufficiently 
to  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  our  neighbor's 
estates.  Such  a  survey  has  at  least  one 
advantage  :  the  whole  field  of  view  appears 
perfectly  plain. 

Surveying  the  subject,  then,  from  this 
ego-altruistic  position,  we  can  perceive  why 
matrimony,  as  we  practise  it,  should  result 
in  increasing  the  personality  of  our  race: 
for  the  reason  namely  that  psychical  sim- 
ilarity determines  the  selection.  At  first 
sight,  indeed,  such  a  natural  affinity  would 
seem  to  have  little  or  nothing  to  do  with 
marriage.  As  far  as  outsiders  are  capable 
of  judging,  unlikes  appear  to  fancy  one 


FAMILY.  61 

another  quite  as  gratuitously  as  do  likes. 
Connubial  couples  are  often  anything  but 
twin  souls.  Yet  our  own  dual  use  of  the 
word  "  like  "  bears  historic  witness  to  the 
contrary.  For  in  this  expression  we  have 
a  record  from  early  Gothic  times  that  men 
liked  others  for  being  like  themselves. 
Since  then,  our  feelings  have  not  changed 
materially,  although  our  mode  of  showing 
them  is  slightly  less  intense.  In  those  sim- 
ple days  stranger  and  enemy  were  synony- 
mous terms,  and  their  objects  were  received 
in  a  corresponding  spirit.  In  our  present 
refined  civilization  we  hurl  epithets  instead 
of  spears,  and  content  ourselves  with  brand- 
ing as  heterodox  the  opinions  of  another 
which  do  not  happen  to  coincide  with  our 
own.  The  instinct  of  self  -  development 
naturally  begets  this  self-sided  view.  We 
insensibly  find  those  persons  congenial 
whose  ideas  resemble  ours,  and  gravitate  to 
them,  as  leaves  on  a  pond  do  to  one  another, 
nearer  and  nearer  till  they  touch.  Is  it 
likely,  then,  that  in  the  most  important 
case  of  all  the  rule  should  suddenly  cease  to 
hold  ?  Is  it  to  be  presumed  that  even  So- 
crates chose  his  consort  for  her  remarkable 
contrariety  to  himself  ? 


62     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Mere  physical  attraction  is  another  mat- 
ter. Corporeally  considered,  men  not  in- 
frequently fall  in  love  with  their  opposites, 
the  phenomenally  tall  with  the  painfully 
short,  the  unnecessarily  stout  with  the  dis- 
tressingly slender.  But  even  such  inartis- 
tic juxtapositions  are  much  less  common 
than  we  are  apt  at  times  to  think.  For  it 
must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  excep- 
tional character  of  the  phenomena  renders 
them  conspicuous,  the  customary  more  con- 
sorted combinations  failing  to  excite  atten- 
tion. 

Besides,  there  exists  a  reason  for  physical 
incongruity  which  does  not  hold  psychi- 
cally. Nature  sanctions  the  one  while  she 
discountenances  the  other.  Instead  of  the 
forethought  she  once  bestowed  upon  the 
body,  it  receives  at  her  hands  now  but  the 
scantiest  attention.  Its  development  has 
ceased  to  be  an  object  with  her.  For  some 
time  past  almost  all  her  care  has  been  de- 
voted to  the  evolution  of  the  soul.  The 
consequence  is  that  physically  man  is  much 
less  specialized  than  many  other  animals. 
In  other  words,  he  is  bodily  less  advanced 
in  the  race  for  competitive  extermination. 
He  belongs  to  an  antiquated,  inefficient  type 


FAMILY.  63 

of  mammal.  His  organism  is  still  of  the 
jack-of-all-trades  pattern,  such  as  prevailed 
generally  in  the  more  youthful  stages  of 
organic  life  —  one  not  specially  suited  to 
any  particular  pursuit.  Were  it  not  for 
his  cerebral  convolutions  he  could  not  com- 
pete for  an  instant  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence, and  even  the  monkey  would  reign  in 
his  stead.  But  brain  is  more  effective  than 
biceps,  and  a  being  who  can  kill  his  oppo- 
nent farther  off  than  he  can  see  him  evi- 
dently needs  no  great  excellence  of  body  to 
survive  his  foe. 

The  field  of  competition  has  thus  been 
transferred  from  matter  to  mind,  but  the 
fight  has  lost  none  of  its  keenness  in  con- 
sequence. With  the  same  zeal  with  which 
advantageous  anatomical  variations  were 
seized  upon  and  perpetuated,  psychical  ones 
are  now  grasped  and  rendered  hereditary. 
Now  if  opposites  were  to  fancy  and  wed 
one  another,  such  fortunate  improvements 
would  soon  be  lost.  They  would  be  scat- 
tered over  the  community  at  large  even  if 
they  escaped  entire  neutralization.  To  pre- 
vent so  disastrous  a  result  nature  implants 
a  desire  for  resemblance,  which  desire  man 
instinctively  acts  upon. 


64  THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Complete  compatibility  of  temperament 
is  of  course  a  thing  not  to  be  expected  nor 
indeed  to  be  desired,  since  it  would  defeat 
its  own  end  by  allowing  no  room  for  varia- 
tion. A  fairly  broad  basis  of  agreement, 
however,  exists  even  when  least  suspected. 
This  common  ground  of  content  consists 
of  those  qualities  held  to  be  most  essential 
by  the  individuals  concerned,  although  not 
necessarily  so  appearing  to  other  people. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  these  qualities  are  still 
in  the  larvae  state  of  desires.  They  are  none 
the  less  potent  upon  the  man's  personality 
on  that  account,  for  the  wish  is  always 
father  to  its  own  fulfilment. 

The  want  of  conjugal  resemblance  not 
only  works  mediately  on  the  child,  it  works 
mutually  on  the  parents ;  for  companionship, 
as  is  well  recognized,  tends  to  similarity. 
Now  companionship  is  the  last  thing  to  be 
looked  for  in  a  far-eastern  couple.  Where 
custom  requires  a  wife  to  follow  dutifully 
in  the  wake  of  her  husband,  whenever  the 
two  go  out  together,  there  is  small  opportu- 
nity for  intercourse  by  the  way,  even  were 
there  the  slightest  inclination  to  it,  which 
there  is  not.  The  appearance  of  the  pair 
on  an  excursion  is  a  walking  satire  on  socia- 


FAMILY.  65 

bility,  for  the  comicality  of  the  connection 
is  quite  unperceived  by  the  performers.  In 
the  privacy  of  the  domestic  circle  the  sepa- 
ration, if  less  humorous,  is  no  less  complete. 
Each  lives  in  a  world  of  his  own,  largely 
separate  in  fact  in  China  and  Korea,  and 
none  the  less  in  fancy  in  Japan.  On  the 
continent  a  friend  of  the  husband  would  see 
little  or  nothing  of  the  wife,  and  even  in 
Japan  he  would  meet  her  much  as  we  meet 
an  upper  servant  in  a  friend's  house.  Such 
a  semi-attached  relationship  does  not  con- 
duce to  much  mutual  understanding. 

The  remainder  of  our  hero's  uneventful 
existence  calls  for  no  particular  comment. 
As  soon  as  he  has  children  borne  him  he 
is  raised  ipso  facto  from  the  position  of  a 
common  soldier  to  that  of  a  subordinate 
officer  in  the  family  ranks.  But  his  oppor- 
tunities for  the  expression  of  individuality 
are  not  one  whit  increased.  He  has  simply 
advanced  a  peg  in  a  regular  hierarchy  of 
subjection.  From  being  looked  after  him- 
self he  proceeds  to  look  after  others.  Such 
is  the  extent  of  the  change.  Even  should 
he  chance  to  be  the  eldest  son  of  the  eldest 
son,  and  thus  eventually  end  by  becom- 
ing the  head  of  the  family,  he  cannot  con- 


66     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

sistently  consider  himself.  There  is  abso- 
lutely no  place  in  his  social  cosmos  for  so 
particular  a  thing  as  the  ego. 

With  a  certain  grim  humor  suggestive  of 
metaphysics,  it  may  be  said  of  his  whole 
life  that  it  is  nothing  but  a  relative  affair 
after  all. 


III. 

ADOPTION. 

BUT  one  may  go  a  step  farther  in  this 
matter  of  the  family,  and  by  so  doing  fare 
still  worse  .with  respect  to  individuality. 
There  are  certain  customs  in  vogue  among 
these  peoples  which  would  seem  to  indicate 
that  even  so  generic  a  thing  as  the  family 
is  too  personal  to  serve  them  for  ultimate 
social  atom,  and  that  in  fact  it  is  only  the 
idea  of  the  family  that  is  really  important, 
a  case  of  abstraction  of  an  abstract.  These 
suggestive  customs  are  the  far-eastern  prac- 
tices of  adoption  and  abdication. 

Adoption,  with  us,  is  a  kind  of  domestic 
luxury,  akin  to  the  keeping  of  any  other 
pets,  such  as  lap-dogs  and  canaries.  It  is  a 
species  of  self-indulgence  which  those  who 
can  afford  it  give  themselves  when  fortune 
has  proved  unpropitious,  an  artificial  meth- 
od of  counteracting  the  inequalities  of  fate. 
That  such  is  the  plain  unglamoured  view  of 


68    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  procedure  is  shown  by  the  age  at  which 
the  object  is  adopted.  Usually  the  future 
son  or  daughter  enters  the  adoptive  house- 
hold as  an  infant,  intentionally  so  on  the 
part  of  the  would-be  parents.  His  igno- 
rance of  a  previous  relationship  largely  in- 
creases his  relative  value ;  for  the  possibil- 
ity of  his  making  comparisons  in  his  own 
mind  between  a  former  state  of  existence 
and  the  present  one  unfavorable  to  the  lat- 
ter is  not  pleasant  for  the  adopters  to  con- 
template. He  is  therefore  acquired  young. 
The  amusement  derived  from  his  company 
is  thus  seen  to  be  distinctly  paramount  to 
all  other  considerations.  No  one  cares  so 
heartily  to  own  a  dog  which  has  been  the 
property  of  another ;  a  fortiori  of  a  child. 
It  is  clearly,  then,  not  as  a  necessity  that 
the  babe  is  adopted.  If  such  were  the  case, 
if  like  the  ancient  Romans  all  a  man  want- 
ed was  the  continuance  of  the  family  line, 
he  would  naturally  wait  until  the  last  prac- 
ticable moment ;  for  he  would  thus  save 
both  care  and  expense.  In  the  Far  East 
adoption  is  quite  a  different  affair.  There 
it  is  a  genealogical  necessity  —  like  having 
a  father  or  mother.  It  is,  indeed,  of  almost 
more  importance.  For  the  great  desidera- 


ADOPTION.  69 

turn  to  these  peoples  is  not  ancestors  but 
descendants.  Pedigrees  in  the  land  of  the 
universal  opposite  are  not  matters  of  be- 
quest but  of  posthumous  reversion.  A 
man  is  not  beholden  to  the  past,  he  looks 
forward  to  the  future  for  inherited  honors. 
No  fame  attaches  to  him  for  having  had  an 
illustrious  grandfather.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  the  illustrious  grandson  who  reflects 
some  of  his  own  greatness  back  upon  his 
grandfather.  If  a  man  therefore  fail  to 
attain  eminence  himself,  he  always  has  an- 
other chance  in  his  descendants ;  for  he 
will  of  necessity  be  ennobled  through  the 
merits  of  those  who  succeed  him.  Such  is 
the  immemorial  law  of  the  land.  Fame  is 
retroactive.  This  admirable  system  has 
only  one  objection  :  it  is  posthumous  in  its 
effect.  An  ambitious  man  who  unfortu- 
nately lacks  ability  himself  has  to  wait  too 
long  for  vicarious  recognition.  The  objec- 
tion is  like  that  incident  to  the  making  of 
a  country  seat  out  of  a  treeless  plain  by 
planting  the  same  with  saplings.  About 
the  time  the  trees  begin  to  be  worth  hav- 
ing the  proprietary  landscape-gardener  dies 
of  old  age.  However,  as  custom  permits  a 
Far  Oriental  no  ancestral  growth  of  timber, 


70     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

he  is  obliged  to  lay  the  seeds  of  his  own 
family  trees.  Natural  offspring  are  on  the 
whole  easier  to  get,  and  more  satisfactory 
when  got.  Hence  the  haste  with  which 
these  peoples  rush  into  matrimony.  If  in 
despite  of  his  precipitation  fate  perversely 
refuse  to  grant  him  children,  he  must  en- 
deavor to  make  good  the  omission  by  arti- 
ficial means.  He  proceeds  to  adopt  some- 
body. True  to  instinct,  he  chooses  from 
preference  a  collateral  relative.  In  some 
far-eastern  lands  he  must  so  restrict  himself 
by  law.  In  Korea,  for  instance,  he  can  only 
adopt  an  agnate  and  one  of  a  lower  genera- 
tion than  his  own.  But  in  Japan  his  choice 
is  not  so  limited.  In  so  praiseworthy  an 
act  as  the  perpetuation  of  his  unimportant 
family  line,  it  is  deemed  unwise  in  that 
progressive  land  to  hinder  him  from  un- 
consciously bettering  it  by  the  way.  He  is 
consequently  permitted  to  adopt  anybody. 
As  people  are  by  no  means  averse  to  being 
adopted,  the  power  to  adopt  whom  he  will 
gives  him  more  voice  in  the  matter  of  his 
unnatural  offspring  than  he  ever  had  in  the 
selection  of  a  more  natural  one. 

The  adopted  changes  his  name,  of  course, 
to  take  that  of  the  family  he  enters.     As 


ADOPTION.  71 

he  is  very  frequently  grown  up  and  exten- 
sively known  at  the  time  the  adoption 
takes  place,  his  change  of  cognomen  occa- 
sions at  first  some  slight  confusion  among 
his  acquaintance.  This  would  be  no  worse, 
however,  than  the  change  with  us  from  the 
inaid  to  the  matron,  and  intercourse  would 
soon  proceed  smoothly  again  if  people 
would  only  rest  content  with  one  such  do- 
mestic migration.  But  they  do  not.  The 
fatal  facility  of  the  process  tempts  them 
to  repeat  it.  The  result  is  bewildering :  a 
people  as  nomadic  now  in  the  property  of 
their  persons  as  their  forefathers  were  in 
their  real  estate.  A  man  adopts  another 
to-day  to  unadopt  him  to-morrow  and  re- 
place him  by  somebody  else  the  day  after. 
So  profoundly  unimportant  to  them  is  their 
social  identity,  that  they  bandy  it  about 
with  almost  farcical  freedom.  Perhaps  it 
is  fitting  that  there  should  be  some  slight 
preparation  in  this  world  for  a  future  trans- 
migration of  souls.  Still  one  fails  to  con- 
ceive that  the  practice  can  be  devoid  of 
disadvantages  even  to  its  beneficiaries.  To 
foreigners  it  proves  disastrously  perplexing. 
For  if  you  chance  upon  a  man  whom  you 
have  not  met  for  some  time,  you  can  never 


72    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

be  quite  sure  how  to  accost  him.  If  you 
begin,  "Well  met,  Green,  how  goes  it?" 
as  likely  as  not  be  replies,  "  Nicely.  But 
I  am  no  longer  Green ;  I  have  become 
Brown.  I  was  adopted  last  month  by  my 
maternal  grandfather."  You  of  course 
apologize  for  your  unfortunate  mistake, 
carefully  note  his  change  of  hue  for  a  fu- 
ture occasion,  and  behold,  on  meeting  him 
the  next  time  you  find  he  has  turned  Black. 
Such  a  chameleon-like  cognomen  is  very 
unsettling  to  your  idea  of  his  identity,  and 
can  hardly  prove  reassuring  to  his  own. 
The  only  persons  who  reap  any  benefit 
from  the  doubt  are  those,  with  us  unhappy, 
individuals  who  possess  the  futile  faculty 
of  remembering  faces  without  recalling 
their  accompanying  names. 

Girls,  as  a  rule,  are  not  adopted,  being 
valueless  genealogically.  A  niece  or  grand- 
niece  to  whom  one  has  taken  a  great  fancy 
might  of  course  be  adopted  there  as  else- 
where, but  it  would  be  distinctly  out  of  the 
every-day  run,  as  she  could  never  be  in- 
cluded in  the  household  on  strict  business 
principles. 

The  practice  of  adopting  is  not  confined 
to  childless  couples.  Others  may  find  them- 


ADOPTION.  73 

selves  in  quite  as  unfortunate  a  predica- 
ment. A  man  may  be  the  father  of  a  large 
and  thriving  family  and  yet  be  as  destitute 
patriarchally  as  if  he  had  not  a  child  to 
his  name.  His  offspring  may  be  of  the 
wrong  sex ;  they  may  all  be  girls.  In  this 
untoward  event  the  father  has  something 
more  on  his  hands  than  merely  a  houseful 
of  daughters  to  dispose  of.  In  addition  to 
securing  sons-in-law,  he  must,  unless  he 
would  have  his  ancestral  line  become  ex- 
tinct, provide  himself  with  a  son.  The 
simplest  procedure  in  such  a  case  is  to 
combine  relationships  in  a  single  individ- 
ual, and  the  most  self-evident  person  to 
select  for  the  dual  capacity  is  the  husband 
of  the  eldest  daughter.  This  is  the  course 
pursued.  Some  worthy  young  man  is  se- 
cured as  spouse  for  the  senior  sister  ;  he  is 
at  the  same  time  formally  taken  in  as  a  son 
by  the  family  whose  cognomen  he  assumes, 
and  eventually  becomes  the  head  of  the 
house.  Strange  to  say,  this  vista  of  grad- 
ually unfolding  honors  does  not  seem  to 
prove  inviting.  Perhaps  the  new-comer  ob- 
jects to  marrying  the  whole  family,  a  preju- 
dice not  without  parallel  elsewhere.  Cer- 
tainly the  opportunity  is  not  appreciated. 


74  THE  SOUL   OF  THE   FAR  EAST. 

Indeed,  to  "go  out  as  a  son-in-law,"  as 
the  Japanese  idiom  hath  it,  is  consid- 
ered demeaning  to  the  matrimonial  domes- 
tic. Like  other  household  help  he  wears 
too  patently  the  badge  of  servitude.  "  If 
you  have  three  koku  of  rice  to  your  name, 
don't  do  it,"  is  the  advice  of  the  local 
proverb  —  a  proverb  whose  warning  against 
marrying  for  money  is  the  more  suggestive 
for  being  launched  in  a  land  where  marry- 
ing for  love  is  beyond  the  pale  of  re- 
spectability. To  barter  one's  name  in  this 
mercenary  manner  is  looked  upon  as  derog- 
atory to  one's  self-respect,  although,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  part  with  it  for  any  less  di- 
rect remuneration  is  not  attended  with  the 
slightest  loss  of  personal  prestige.  As  prac- 
tically the  unfortunate  had  none  to  lose  in 
either  event,  it  would  seem  to  be  a  case  of 
taking  away  from  a  man  that  which  he  hath 
not.  So  contumacious  a  thing  is  custom. 
It  is  indeed  lucky  that  popular  prejudice  in- 
terposes some  limit  to  this  fictitious  method 
of  acquiring  children.  A  trifling  predilec- 
tion for  the  real  thing  in  sonships  is  abso- 
lutely vital,  even  to  the  continuance  of  the 
artificial  variety.  For  if  one  generation 
ever  went  in  exclusively  for  adoption,  there 


ADOPTION.  75 

would  be  no  subsequent  generation  to 
adopt. 

As  if  to  give  the  finishing  touch  to  so 
conventional  a  system  of  society,  a  man  can 
leave  it  under  certain  circumstances  with 
even  greater  ease  than  he  entered  it.  He 
can  become  as  good  as  dead  without  the 
necessity  of  making  way  with  himself. 
Theoretically,  he  can  cease  to  live  while 
still  practically  existing ;  for  it  is  always 
open  to  the  head  of  a  family  to  abdicate. 

The  word  abdicate  has  to  our  ears  a  cer- 
tain regal  sound.  We  instinctively  asso- 
ciate the  act  with  a  king.  Even  the  more 
democratic  expression  resign  suggests  at 
once  an  office  of  public  or  quasi  public 
character.  To  talk  of  abdicating  one's 
private  relationships  sounds  absurd ;  one 
might  as  well  talk  of  electing  his  parents, 
it  would  seem  to  us.  Such  misunderstand- 
ing of  far-eastern  social  possibilities  comes 
from  our  having  indulged  in  digressions 
from  our  more  simple  nomadic  habits.  If 
in  imagination  we  will  return  to  our  ances- 
tral muttons  and  the  then  existing  order 
of  things,  the  idea  will  not  strike  us  as  so 
strange ;  for  in  those  early  bucolic  days 
every  father  was  a  king.  Family  econom- 


76     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ics  were  the  only  political  questions  in  ex- 
istence then.  The  clan  was  the  unit.  Do- 
mestic disputes  were  state  disturbances,  and 
clan-claims  the  only  kind  of  international 
quarrels.  The  patriarch  was  both  father  to 
his  people  and  king. 

As  time  widened  the  family  circle  it 
eventually  reached  a  point  where  cohesion 
ceased  to  be  possible.  The  centrifugal  ten- 
dency could  no  longer  be  controlled  by  the 
centripetal  force.  It  split  up  into  separate 
bodies,  each  of  them  a  family  by  itself.  In 
their  turn  these  again  divided,  and  so  the 
process  went  on.  This  principle  has  worked 
universally,  the  only  difference  in  its  action 
among  different  races  being  the  greater  or 
less  degree  of  the  evolving  motion.  With 
us  the  social  system  has  been  turning  more 
and  more  rapidly  with  time.  In  the  Far 
East  its  force,  instead  of  increasing,  would 
seem  to  have  decreased,  enabling  the  neb- 
ula of  its  original  condition  to  keep  to- 
gether as  a  single  mass,  so  that  to-day  a 
whole  nation,  resembling  a  nebula  indeed 
in  homogeneity,  is  swayed  by  a  single  pa- 
triarchal principle.  Here,  on  the  contrary, 
so  rapid  has  the  motion  become  that  even 
brethren  find  themselves  scattered  to  the 
four  winds. 


ADOPTION.  77 

An  Occidental  father  and  an  Oriental 
head  of  a  family  are  no  longer  really  cor- 
relative terms.  The  latter  more  closely  re- 
sembles a  king  in  his  duties,  responsibili- 
ties, and  functions  generally.  Now,  in  the 
Middle  Ages  in  Europe,  when  a  king  lost 
his  nerve  he  abdicated.  So  now  in  the  Far 
East,  when  the  head  of  a  family  can  no 
longer  rest  easy  under  its  cares,  he  abdi- 
cates, and  his  eldest  son  reigns  in  his  stead. 

From  that  moment  he  ceases  to  belong 
to  the  body  politic  in  any  active  sense. 
Not  that  he  is  no  longer  a  member  of  so- 
ciety nor  unamenable  to  its  general  laws, 
but  that  he  has  become  a  respectable  d£- 
classS,  as  it  were.  He  has  entered,  so  to 
speak,  the  social  nirvana,  a  not  unfitting 
first  step,  as  he  regards  it,  toward  entering 
the  eventual  nirvana  beyond. 


IV. 

LANGUAGE. 

A  MAN'S  personal  equation,  as  astrono- 
mers call  the  effect  of  his  individual! ty,  is 
kin,  for  all  its  complexity,  to  those  simple 
algebraical  problems  which  so  puzzled  us  at 
school.  To  solve  either  we  must  begin  by 
knowing  the  values  of  the  constants  that 
enter  into  its  expression.  Upon  the  a  b  c's 
of  the  one,  as  upon  those  of  the  other,  de- 
pend the  possibilities  of  the  individual  x. 

Now  the  constants  in  any  man's  equation 
are  the  qualities  that  he  has  inherited  from 
the  past.  What  a  man  does  follows  from 
what  he  is,  which  in  turn  is  mostly  depen- 
dent upon  what  his  ancestors  have  been ; 
and  of  all  the  links  in  the  long  chain  of 
mind-evolution,  few  are  more  important 
and  more  suggestive  than  language.  Ac- 
tions may  at  the  moment  speak  louder  than 
words,  but  methods  of  expression  have  as 
tell-tale  a  tongue  for  bygone  times  as  ways 
of  doing  things. 


LANGUAGE.  79 

If  it  should  ever  fall  to  my  lot  to  have 
to  settle  that  exceedingly  vexed  Eastern 
question,  —  not  the  emancipation  of  ancient 
Greece  from  the  bondage  of  the  modern 
Turk,  but  the  emancipation  of  the  modern 
college  student  from  the  bond  of  ancient 
Greek,  —  I  should  propose,  as  a  solution  of 
the  dilemma,  the  addition  of  a  course  in 
Japanese  to  the  college  list  of  required 
studies.  It  might  look,  I  admit,  like  beg- 
ging the  question  for  the  sake  of  giving  its 
answer,  but  the  answer,  I  think,  would  jus- 
tify itself. 

It  is  from  no  desire  to  parade  a  fresh 
hobby-horse  upon  the  university  curriculum 
that  I  offer  the  suggestion,  but  because  I 
believe  that  a  study  of  the  Japanese  lan- 
guage would  prove  the  most  valuable  of 
ponies  in  the  academic  pui'suit  of  philol- 
ogy. In  the  matter  of  literature,  indeed, 
we  should  not  be  adding  very  much  to  our 
existing  store,  but  we  should  gain  an  in- 
sight into  the  genesis  of  speech  that  would 
put  us  at  least  one  step  nearer  to  being 
present  at  the  beginnings  of  human  con- 
versation. As  it  is  now,  our  linguistic 
learning  is  with  most  of  us  limited  to  a 
knowledge  of  Aryan  tongues,  and  hi  con- 


80     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

sequence  we  not  only  fall  into  the  mistake 
of  thinking  our  way  the  only  way,  which  is 
bad  enough,  but,  what  is  far  worse,  by  not 
perceiving  the  other  possible  paths  we  quite 
fail  to  appreciate  the  advantages  or  disad- 
vantages of  following  our  own.  We  are 
the  blind  votaries  of  a  species  of  ancestral 
language-worship,  which,  with  all  its  erudi- 
tion, tends  to  narrow  our  linguistic  scope. 
A  study  of  Japanese  would  free  us  from 
the  fetters  of  any  such  family  infatuation. 
The  inviolable  rules  and  regulations  of 
our  mother-tongue  would  be  found  to  be  of 
relative  application  only.  For  we  should 
discover  that  speech  is  a  much  less  cate- 
gorical matter  than  we  had  been  led  to 
suppose.  "We  should  actually  come  to 
doubt  the  fundamental  necessity  of  some 
of  our  most  sacred  grammatical  construc- 
tions ;  and  even  our  reverenced  Latin 
grammars  would  lose  that  air  of  awful  ab- 
soluteness which  so  impressed  us  in  boy- 
hood. 

An  encouraging  estimate  of  a  certain  mis- 
sionary puts  the  amount  of  study  needed 
by  the  Western  student  for  the  learning  of 
Japanese  as  sufficient,  if  expended  nearer 
home,  to  equip  him  with  any  three  modern 


LANGUAGE.  81 

European  languages.  It  is  certainly  true 
that  a  completely  strange  vocabulary,  an 
utter  inversion  of  grammar,  and  an  elabo- 
rate system  of  honorifics  combine  to  render 
its  acquisition  anything  but  easy.  In  its 
fundamental  principles,  however,  it  is  allur- 
ingly simple. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Japanese  language 
is  pleasingly  destitute  of  personal  pronouns. 
Not  only  is  the  obnoxious  "  I "  conspicu- 
ous only  by  its  absence ;  the  objectionable 
antagonistic  "  you "  is  also  entirely  sup- 
pressed, while  the  intrusive  "  he "  is  evi- 
dently too  much  of  a  third  person  to  be 
wanted.  Such  invidious  distinctions  of 
identity  apparently  never  thrust  their 
presence  upon  the  simple  early  Tartar 
minds.  I,  you,  and  he,  not  being  differ- 
ences due  to  nature,  demanded,  to  their 
thinking,  no  recognition  of  man. 

There  is  about  this  vagueness  of  expres- 
sion a  freedom  not  without  its  charm.  It 
is  certainly  delightful  to  be  able  to  speak 
of  yourself  as  if  you  were  somebody  else, 
choosing  mentally  for  the  occasion  any  one 
you  may  happen  to  fancy,  or,  if  you  prefer, 
the  possibility  of  soaring  boldly  forth  into 
the  realms  of  the  unconditioned. 


82  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

To  us,  at  first  sight,  however,  such  a  lack 
of  specification  appears  wofully  incompat- 
ible with  any  intelligible  transmission  of 
ideas.  So  communistic  a  want  of  discrimi- 
nation between  the  meum  and  the  tuum  — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  claims  of  a  possible 
third  party — would  seem  to  be  as  fatal  to 
the  interchange  of  thoughts  as  it  proves  de- 
structive to  the  trafficking  in  commodities. 
Such,  nevertheless,  is  not  the  result.  On 
the  contrary,  Japanese  is  as  easy  and  as 
certain  of  comprehension  as  is  English. 
On  ninety  occasions  out  of  a  hundred,  the 
context  at  once  makes  clear  the  person 
meant. 

In  the  very  few  really  ambiguous  cases, 
or  those  in  which,  for  the  sake  of  emphasis, 
a  pronoun  is  wanted,  certain  consecrated  ex- 
pressions are  introduced  for  the  purpose. 
For  eventually  the  more  complex  social  re- 
lations of  increasing  civilization  compelled 
some  sort  of  distant  recognition.  Accord- 
ingly, compromises  with  objectionable  per- 
sonality were  effected  by  circumlocutions 
promoted  to  a  pronoun's  office,  becoming 
thus  pro-pronouns,  as  it  were.  Very  non- 
committal expressions  they  are,  most  of 
them,  such  as  :  "  the  augustness,"  meaning 


LANGUAGE.  83 

you  ;  "  that  honorable  side,"  or  "  that  cor- 
ner," denoting  some  third  person,  the  exact 
term  employed  in  any  given  instance  scru- 
pulously betokening  the  relative  respect  in 
•which  the  individual  spoken  of  is  held ; 
while  with  a  candor,  an  indefiniteness,  or 
a  humility  worthy  so  polite  a  people,  the  I 
is  known  as  "  selfishness,"  or  "  a  certain 
person,"  or  "  the  clumsy  one." 

Pronominal  adjectives  are  manufactured 
in  the  same  way.  "  The  stupid  father,"  1 
"the  awkward  son,"  "the  broken-down 
firm,"  are  "  mine."  Were  they  "  yours," 
they  would  instantly  become  "  the  august, 
venerable  father,"  "  the  honorable  son," 
"  the  exalted  firm." 

Even  these  lame  substitutes  for  pronouns 
are  paraded  as  sparingly  as  possible.  To 
the  Western  student,  who  brings  to  the 
subject  a  brain  throbbing  with  personality, 
hunting  in  a  Japanese  sentence  for  personal 
references  is  dishearteningly  like  "  search- 
ing in  the  dark  for  a  black  hat  which  is  n't 
there  ;  "  for  the  brevet  pronouns  are  com- 
monly not  on  duty.  To  employ  them  with 
the  reckless  prodigality  that  characterizes 

1  Professor  Basil  Hall  Chamberlain :  The  Japanese 
Language. 


84    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

our  conversation  would  strike  the  Tartar 
mind  like  interspersing  his  talk  with  un- 
meaning italics.  He  would  regard  such 
discourse  much  as  we  do  those  effusive 
epistles  of  a  certain  type  of  young  woman 
to  her  most  intimate  girl  friends,  in  which 
every  other  word  is  emphatically  under- 
lined. 

For  the  most  part,  the  absolutely  neces- 
sary personal  references  are  introduced  by 
honorifics ;  that  is,  by  honorary  or  humble 
expressions.  Such  is  a  portion  of  the 
latter's  duty.  They  do  a  great  deal  of  un- 
necessary work  besides. 

These  honorifics  are,  taken  as  a  whole, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  peculiarities  of 
Japanese,  as  also  of  Korean,  just  as,  taken 
in  detail,  they  are  one  of  its  most  dangerous 
pitfalls.  For  silence  is  indeed  golden  com- 
pared with  the  chagrin  of  discovering  that 
a  speech  which  you  had  meant  for  a  com- 
pliment was,  in  fact,  an  insult,  or  the 
vexation  of  learning  that  you  have  been 
industriously  treating  your  servant  with  the 
deference  due  a  superior,  —  two  catastro- 
phes sure  to  follow  the  attempts  of  even  the 
most  cautious  of  beginners.  The  language 
is  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  honorific 


LANGUAGE.  85 

spirit  that  the  exposure  of  truth  in  all  its 
naked  simplicity  is  highly  improper.  Every 
idea  requires  to  be  more  or  less  clothed  in 
courtesy  before  it  is  presentable;  and  the 
garb  demanded  by  etiquette  is  complex  be- 
yond conception.  To  begin  with,  there  are 
certain  preliminary  particles  which  are 
simply  honorific,  serving  no  other  purpose 
whatsoever.  In  addition  to  these  there  are 
for  every  action  a  small  infinity  of  verbs, 
each  sacred  to  a  different  degree  of  respect. 
For  instance,  to  our  verb  "  to  give  "  corre- 
sponds a  complete  social  scale  of  Japanese 
verbs,  each  conveying  the  idea  a  shade 
more  politely  than  its  predecessor ;  only  the 
very  lowest  meaning  anything  so  plebeian 
as  simply  "  to  give."  Sets  of  laudatory  or 
depreciatory  adjectives  are  employed  in  the 
same  way.  Lastly,  the  word  for  "  is," 
which  strictly  means  "exists,"  expresses 
this  existence  under  three  different  forms, 
—  in  a  matter-of-fact,  a  flowing,  or  an  in- 
flated style ;  the  solid,  liquid,  and  gaseous 
states  of  conversation,  so  to  speak,  to  suit 
the  person  addressed.  But  three  forms  be- 
ing far  too  few  for  the  needs  of  so  elabo- 
rate a  politeness,  these  are  supplemented 
by  many  interpolated  grades. 


86     THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Terms  of  respect  are  applied  not  only  to 
those  mortals  who  are  held  in  estimation 
higher  than  their  fellows,  but  to  all  men 
indiscri  minately  as  well.  The  grammatical 
attitude  of  the  individual  toward  the  speak- 
er is  of  as  much  importance  as  his  social 
standing,  I  being  beneath  contempt,  and 
you  above  criticism. 

Honorifics  are  used  not  only  on  all  possi- 
ble occasions  for  courtesy,  but  at  times,  it 
would  seem,  upon  impossible  ones ;  for  in 
some  instances  the  most  subtle  diagnosis 
fails  to  reveal  in  them  a  relevancy  to  any- 
body. That  the  commonest  objects  should 
bear  titles  because  of  their  connection  with 
some  particular  person  is  comprehensible, 
but  what  excuse  can  be  made  for  a  phrase 
like  the  following,  "  It  respectfully  does 
that  the  august  seat  exists,"  all  of  which 
simply  means  "  is,"  and  may  be  applied  to 
anything,  being  the  common  word  —  in 
Japanese  it  is  all  one  word  now  —  for  that 
apparently  simple  idea.  It  would  seem  a 
sad  waste  of  valuable  material.  The  real 
reason  why  so  much  distinguished  consid- 
eration is  shown  the  article  in  question  lies 
in  the  fact  that  it  is  treated  as  existing 
with  reference  to  the  person  addressed,  and 
therefore  becomes  ipso  facto  august. 


LANGUAGE.  87 

Here  is  a  still  subtler  example.  You  are, 
we  will  suppose,  at  a  tea-house,  and  you 
wish  for  sugar.  The  following  almost 
stereotyped  conversation  is  pretty  sure  to 
take  place.  I  translate  it  literally,  simply 
prefacing  that  every  tea-house  girl,  usually 
in  the  first  blush  of  youth,  is  generically 
addressed  as  "  elder  sister,"  —  another  hon- 
orific, at  least  so  considered  in  Japan. 

You  clap  your  hands.  (Enter  tea-house 
maiden.') 

You.  Hai,  elder  sister,  augustly  exists 
there  sugar  ? 

The  T.  IT.  M.  The  honorable  sugar, 
augustly  is  it? 

You.     So,  augustly. 

The  T.  H.  M.  He  (indescribable  expres- 
sion of  assent). 

(JExit  tea-house  maiden  to  fetch  the 
sugar.') 

Now,  the  "  augustlies  "  go  almost  with- 
out saying,  but  why  is  the  sugar  honorable  ? 
Simply  because  it  is  eventually  going  to  be 
offered  to  you.  But  she  would  have  spoken 
of  it  by  precisely  the  same  respectful  title, 
if  she  had  been  obliged  to  inform  you  that 
there  was  none,  in  which  case  it  never 
could  have  become  yours.  Such  is  polite- 


88    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ness.  We  may  note,  in  passing,  that  all 
her  remarks  and  all  yours,  barring  your 
initial  question,  meant  absolutely  nothing. 
She  understood  you  perfectly  from  the  first, 
and  you  knew  she  did ;  but  then,  if  all  of 
us  were  to  say  only  what  were  necessary, 
the  delightful  art  of  conversation  would 
soon  be  nothing  but  a  science. 

The  average  Far  Oriental,  indeed,  talks 
as  much  to  no  purpose  as  his  Western 
cousin,  only  in  his  chit-chat  politeness  re- 
places personalities.  With  him,  self  is  sup- 
pressed, and  an  ever-present  regard  for 
others  is  substituted  in  its  stead. 

A  lack  of  personality  is,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  occasion  of  this  courtesy ;  it  is  also  its 
cause. 

That  politeness  should  be  one  of  the  most 
marked  results  of  impersonality  may  appear 
surprising,  yet  a  slight  examination  will 
show  it  to  be  a  fact.  Looked  at  a  posteriori, 
we  find  that  where  the  one  trait  exists  the 
other  is  most  developed,  while  an  absence 
of  the  second  seems  to  prevent  the  full 
growth  of  the  first.  This  is  true  both  in 
general  and  in  detail.  Courtesy  increases, 
as  we  travel  eastward  round  the  world, 
coincidently  with  a  decrease  in  the  sense  of 


LANGUAGE.  89 

self.  Asia  is  more  courteous  than  Europe, 
Europe  than  America.  Particular  races 
show  the  same  concomitance  of  character- 
istics. France,  the  most  impersonal  nation 
of  Europe,  is  at  the  same  time  the  most 
polite. 

Considered  a  priori,  the  connection  be- 
tween the  two  is  not  far  to  seek.  Imper- 
sonality, by  lessening  the  interest  in  one's 
self,  induces  one  to  take  an  interest  in 
others.  Introspection  tends  to  make  of 
man  a  solitary  animal,  the  absence  of  it  a 
social  one.  The  more  impersonal  the  peo- 
ple, the  more  will  the  community  supplant 
the  individual  in  the  popular  estimation. 
The  type  becomes  the  interesting  thing  to 
man,  as  it  always  is  to  nature.  Then,  as 
the  social  desires  develop,  politeness,  being 
the  means  to  their  enjoyment,  develops  also. 

A  second  omission  in  Japanese  etymology 
is  that  of  gender.  That  words  should  be 
credited  with  sex  is  a  verbal  anthropo- 
morphism that  would  seem  to  a  Japanese 
exquisitely  grotesque,  if  so  be  that  it  did 
not  strike  him  as  actually  immodest.  For 
the  absence  of  gender  is  simply  sympto- 
matic of  a  much  more  vital  failing,  a  dis- 
regard of  sex.  Originally,  as  their  Ian- 


90    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

guage  bears  witness,  the  Japanese  showed 
a  childish  reluctance  to  recognizing  sex  at 
all.  Usually  a  single  sexless  term  was  held 
sufficient  for  a  given  species,  and  did  duty 
collectively  for  both  sexes.  Only  where  a 
consideration  of  sex  thrust  itself  upon 
them,  beyond  the  possibility  of  evasion, 
did  they  employ  for  the  male  and  the  fe- 
male distinctive  expressions.  The  more 
intimate  the  relation  of  the  object  to  man, 
the  more  imperative  the  discriminating 
name.  Hence  human  beings  possessed  a 
fair  number  of  such  special  appellatives ; 
for  a  man  is  a  palpably  different  sort  of 
person  from  his  grandmother,  and  a  moth- 
er-in-law from  a  wife.  But  it  is  notewor- 
thy that  the  artificial  affinities  of  society 
were  as  carefully  differentiated  as  the  dis- 
tinctions due  to  sex,  while  ancestral  rela- 
tionships were  deemed  more  important  than 
either. 

Animals,  though  treated  individually 
most  humanely,  are  vouchsafed  but  scant 
recognition  on  the  score  of  sex.  With 
them,  both  sexes  share  one  common  name, 
and  commonly,  indeed,  this  answers  quite 
well  enough.  In  those  few  instances  where 
sex  enters  into  the  question  in  a  manner  not 


LANGUAGE.  91 

to  be  ignored,  particles  denoting  "  male  "  or 
"female"  are  prefixed  to  the  general  term. 
How  comparatively  rare  is  the  need  of  such 
specification  can  be  seen  from  the  way  in 
which,  with  us,  in  many  species,  the  name 
of  one  sex  alone  does  duty  indifferently  for 
both.  That  of  the  male  is  the  one  usually 
selected,  as  in  the  case  of  the  dog  or  horse. 
If,  however,  it  be  the  female  with  which 
man  has  most  to  do,  she  is  allowed  to  bestow 
her  name  upon  her  male  partner.  Exam- 
ples of  the  latter  description  occur  in  the 
use  of  "  cows  "  for  "  cattle,"  and  "  hens  " 
for  "fowls."  A  Japanese  can  say  only 
"fowl,"  defined,  if  absolutely  necessary,  as 
«  he-fowl  "  or  "  she-fowl." 

Now  such  a  slighting  of  one  of  the  most 
potent  springs  of  human  action,  sex,  with 
all  that  the  idea  involves,  is  not  due  to 
a  pronounced  misogynism  on  the  part  of 
these  people,  but  to  a  much  more  effective 
neglect,  a  great  underlying  impersonality. 
Indifference  to  woman  is  but  included  in 
a  much  more  general  indifference  to  man- 
kind. The  fact  becomes  all  the  more  evi- 
dent when  we  descend  from  sex  to  gender. 
That  Father  Ocean  does  not,  in  their  verbal 
imagery,  embrace  Mother  Earth,  with  that 


92  THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST, 

subtle  suggestion  of  humanity  which  in 
Aryan  speech  the  gender  of  the  nouns  hints 
without  expressing,  is  not  due  to  any  lack 
of  poesy  in  the  Far  Oriental  speaker,  but 
to  the  essential  impersonality  of  his  mind, 
embodied  now  in  the  very  character  of  the 
words  he  uses.  A  Japanese  noun  is  a  crys- 
tallized concept,  handed  down  unchanged 
from  the  childhood  of  the  Japanese  race. 
So  primitive  a  conception  does  it  represent 
that  it  is  neither  a  total  nor  a  partial  sym- 
bol, but  rather  the  outcome  of  a  first  vague 
generality.  The  word  "  man,"  for  instance, 
means  to  them  not  one  man,  still  less  man- 
kind, but  that  indefinite  idea  which  strug- 
gles for  embodiment  in  the  utterance  of  the 
infant.  It  represents  not  a  person,  but  a 
thing,  a  material  fact  quite  innocent  of  gen- 
der. This  early  state  of  semi-consciousness 
the  Japanese  never  outgrew.  The  world 
continued  to  present  itself  to  their  minds  as 
a  collection  of  things.  Nor  did  their  sub- 
sequent Chinese  education  change  their 
view.  Buddhism  simply  infused  all  things 
with  the  one  universal  spirit. 

As  to  inanimate  objects,  the  idea  of  sup- 
posing sex  where  there  is  not  even  life  is 
altogether  too  fanciful  a  notion  for  the  Far 
Eastern  mind. 


LANGUAGE.  93 

Impersonality  first  fashioned  the  nouns, 
and  then  the  nouns,  by  their  very  im- 
personality, helped  keep  impersonal  the 
thought  and  fettered  fancy.  All  those 
temptings  to  poesy  which  to  the  Aryan 
imagination  lie  latent  in  the  sex  with 
which  his  forefathers  humanized  their 
words,  never  stir  the  Tartar  nor  the  Chi- 
nese soul.  They  feel  the  poetry  of  nature 
as  much  as,  indeed  much  more  than,  we; 
but  it  is  a  poetry  unassociated  with  man. 
And  this,  too,  curiously  enough,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  to  explain  the  cosmos 
the  Chinamen  invented,  or  perhaps  only 
adapted,  a  singularly  sexual  philosophy. 
For  possibly,  like  some  other  portions  of 
their  intellectual  wealth,  they  stole  it  from 
India.  The  Chinese  conception  of  the  ori- 
gin of  the  world  is  based  on  the  idea  of 
sex.  According  to  their  notions  the  earth 
was  begotten.  It  is  true  that  with  them 
the  cosmos  started  in  an  abstract  some- 
thing, which  self-produced  two  great  prin- 
ciples ;  but  this  pair  once  obtained,  matters 
proceeded  after  the  analogy  of  mankind. 
The  two  principles  at  work  were  them- 
selves abstract  enough  to  have  satisfied  the 
most  unimpassioned  of  philosophers.  They 


94    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

were  simply  a  positive  essence  and  a 
negative  one,  correlated  to  sunshine  and 
shadow,  but  also  correlated  to  male  and 
female  forces.  Through  their  mutual  ac- 
tion were  born  the  earth  and  the  air  and 
the  water ;  from  these,  in  turn,  was  begot- 
ten man.  The  cosmical  modus  operandi 
was  not  creative  nor  evolutionary,  but  sex- 
ual. The  whole  scheme  suggests  an  at- 
tempt to  wed  abstract  philosophy  with 
primitive  concrete  mythology. 

The  same  sexuality  distinguishes  the  Ja- 
panese demonology.  Here  the  physical  re- 
places the  philosophical ;  instead  of  princi- 
ples we  find  allegorical  personages,  but  they 
show  just  the  same  pleasing  propensity  to 
appear  in  pairs. 

This  attributing  of  sexes  to  the  cosmos 
is  not  in  the  least  incompatible  with  an  un- 
interested disregard  of  sex  where  it  really 
exists.  It  is  one  thing  to  admit  the  fact  as 
a  general  law  of  the  universe,  and  quite 
another  to  dwell  upon  it  as  an  important 
factor  in  every-day  affairs. 

How  slight  is  the  Tartar  tendency  to  per- 
sonification can  be  seen  from  a  glance  at 
these  same  Japanese  gods.  They  are  a 
combination  of  defunct  ancestors  and  del- 


LANGUAGE.  95 

fied  natural  phenomena.  The  evolving  of 
the  first  half  required  little  imagination, 
for  fate  furnished  the  material  ready  made ; 
while  in  conjuring  up  the  second  moiety, 
the  spirit-evokers  showed  even  less  origi- 
nality. Their  results  were  neither  winsome 
nor  sublime.  The  gods  whom  they  created 
they  invested  with  very  ordinary  humanity, 
the  usual  endowment  of  aboriginal  deity, 
together  with  the  customary  superhuman 
strength.  If  these  demigods  differed  from 
others  of  their  class,  it  was  only  in  being 
more  commonplace,  and  in  not  meddling 
much  with  man.  Even  such  personifica- 
tion of  natural  forces,  simple  enough  to  be 
self-suggested,  quickly  disappeared.  The 
various  awe  -  compelling  phenomena  soon 
ceased  to  have  any  connection  with  the 
anthropomorphic  noumena  they  had  begot- 
ten. For  instance,  the  sun-goddess,  we  are 
informed,  was  one  day  lured  out  of  a  cav- 
ern, where  she  was  sulking  in  consequence 
of  the  provoking  behavior  of  her  younger 
brother,  by  her  curiosity  at  the  sight  of  her 
own  face  in  a  mirror,  ingeniously  placed 
before  the  entrance  for  the  purpose.  But 
no  Japanese  would  dream  now  of  casting 
any  such  reflections,  however  flattering, 


96     TEE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

upon  the  face  of  the  orb  of  day.  The  sun 
has  become  not  only  quite  sexless  to  him, 
but  as  devoid  of  personality  as  it  is  to  any 
Western  materialist.  Lesser  deities  suf- 
fered a  like  unsubstantial  transformation. 
The  thunder-god,  with  his  belt  of  drums, 
upon  which  he  beats  a  devil's  tattoo  until 
he  is  black  in  the  face,  is  no  longer  even 
indirectly  associated  with  the  storm.  As 
for  dryads  and  nymphs,  the  beautiful  crea- 
tures never  inhabited  Eastern  Asia.  An- 
thropoid foxes  and  raccoons,  wholly  lacking 
in  those  engaging  qualities  that  beget  love, 
and  through  love  remembrance,  take  their 
place.  Even  Benten,  the  naturalized  Ve- 
nus, who,  like  her  Hellenic  sister,  is  said  to 
have  risen  from  the  sea,  is  a  person  quite 
incapable  of  inspiring  a  reckless  infatua- 
tion. 

Utterly  unlike  was  this  pantheon  to  the 
pantheon  of  the  Greeks,  the  personifying 
tendency  of  whose  Aryan  mind  was  for- 
ever peopling  nature  with  half-human  in- 
habitants. Under  its  quickening  fancy  the 
very  clods  grew  sentient.  Dumb  earth 
awoke  at  the  call  of  its  desire,  and  the 
beings  its  own  poesy  had  begotten  made 
merry  companionship  for  man.  Then  a 


LANGUAGE.  97 

change  crept  over  the  face  of  things. 
Faith  began  to  flicker,  for  want  of  facts 
to  feed  its  flame.  Little  by  little  the  fires 
of  devotion  burnt  themselves  out.  At  last 
great  Pan  died.  The  body  of  the  old  belief 
was  consumed.  But  though  it  perished,  its 
ashes  preserved  its  form,  an  unsubstantial 
presentment  of  the  past,  to  crumble  in  a 
twinkling  at  the  touch  of  science,  but  keep- 
ing yet  to  the  poet's  eye  the  lifelike  sem- 
blance of  what  once  had  been.  The  dead 
gods  still  live  in  our  language  and  our  art. 
Even  to-day  the  earth  about  us  seems  semi- 
conscious to  the  soul,  for  the  memories  they 
have  left. 

But  with  the  Far  Oriental  the  exorcising 
feeling  was  fear.  He  never  fell  in  love 
with  his  own  mythological  creations,  and 
so  he  never  embalmed  their  memories. 
They  were  to  him  but  explanations  of 
facts,  and  had  no  claims  upon  his  fancy. 
His  ideal  world  remained  as  utterly  imper- 
sonal as  if  it  had  never  been  born. 

The  same  impersonality  reappears  in  the 
matter  of  number.  Grammatically,  num- 
ber with  them  is  unrecognized.  There  ex- 
ist no  such  things  as  plural  forms.  This 
singularity  would  be  only  too  welcome  to 


98    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  foreign  student,  were  it  not  that  in 
avoiding  the  frying-pan  the  Tartars  fell 
into  the  fire.  For  what  they  invented  in 
place  of  a  plural  was  quite  as  difficult  to 
memorize,  and  even  more  cumbrous  to  ex- 
press. Instead  of  inflecting  the  noun  and 
then  prefixing  a  number,  they  keep  the 
noun  unchanged  and  add  two  numerals; 
thus  at  times  actually  employing  more 
words  to  express  the  objects  than  there 
are  objects  to  express.  One  of  these  nu- 
merals is  a  simple  number;  the  other  is 
what  is  known  as  an  auxiliary  numeral,  a 
word  as  singular  in  form  as  in  function. 
Thus,  for  instance,  "  two  men  "  become  am- 
plified verbally  into  "  man  two  individual," 
or,  as  the  Chinaman  puts  it,  in  pidgin  Eng- 
lish, "  two  piecey  man."  For  in  this  respect 
Chinese  resembles  Japanese,  though  in  very 
little  else,  and  pidgin  English  is  nothing 
but  the  literal  translation  of  the  Chinese 
idiom  into  Anglo-Saxon  words.  The  neces- 
sity for  such  elaborate  qualification  arises 
from  the  excessive  simplicity  of  the  Japa- 
nese nouns.  As  we  have  seen,  the  noun 
is  so  indefinite  a  generality  that  simply  to 
multiply  it  by  a  number  cannot  possibly 
produce  any  definite  result.  No  exact  coun- 


LANGUAGE.  99 

terpart  of  these  nouns  exists  in  English,  but 
some  idea  of  the  impossibility  of  the  pro- 
cess may  be  got  from  our  word  "  cattle," 
which,  prolific  though  it  may  prove  in  fact, 
remains  obstinately  incapable  of  verbal  mul- 
tiplication. All  Japanese  nouns  being  of 
this  indefinite  description,  all  require  aux- 
iliary numerals.  But  as  each  one  has  its 
own  appropriate  numeral,  about  which  a 
mistake  is  unpardonable,  it  takes  some  lit- 
tle study  merely  to  master  the  etiquette  of 
these  handles  to  the  names  of  things. 

Nouns  are  not  inflected,  their  cases  being 
expressed  by  postpositions,  which,  as  the 
name  implies,  follow,  in  becoming  Japa- 
nese inversion,  instead  of  preceding  the 
word  they  affect.  To  make  up,  neverthe- 
less, for  any  lack  of  perplexity  due  to  an 
absence  of  inflections,  adjectives,  en  re- 
vanche, are  most  elaborately  conjugated. 
Their  protean  shapes  are  as  long  as  they 
are  numerous,  representing  not  only  times, 
but  conditions.  There  are,  for  instance, 
the  root  form,  the  adverbial  form,  the  in- 
definite form,  the  attributive  form,  and  the 
conclusive  form,  the  two  last  being  conju- 
gated through  all  the  various  voices,  moods, 
and  tenses,  to  say  nothing  of  all  the  poten- 


100    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

tial  forms.  As  one  change  is  superposed 
on  another,  the  adjective  ends  by  becoming 
three  or  four  times  its  original  length.  The 
fact  is,  the  adjective  is  either  adjective,  ad- 
verb, or  verb,  according  to  occasion.  In  the 
root  form  it  also  helps  to  make  nouns ;  so 
that  it  is  even  more  generally  useful  than 
as  a  journalistic  epithet  with  us.  As  a 
verb,  it  does  duty  as  predicate  and  copula 
combined.  For  such  an  unnecessary  part 
of  speech  as  a  real  copula  does  not  exist  in 
Japanese.  In  spite  of  the  shock  to  the 
prejudices  of  the  old  school  of  logicians,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  the  Tartars  get  on 
very  well  without  any  such  couplings  to 
their  trains  of  thought.  But  then  we 
should  remember  that  in  their  sentences 
the  cart  is  always  put  before  the  horse, 
and  so  needs  only  to  be  pushed,  not  pulled 
along. 

The  want  of  a  copula  is  another  instance 
of  the  primitive  character  of  the  tongue. 
It  has  its  counterpart  in  our  own  baby-talk, 
where  a  quality  is  predicated  of  a  thing 
simply  by  placing  the  adjective  in  apposi- 
tion with  the  noun. 

That  the  Japanese  word  which  is  com- 
monly translated  "  is "  is  in  no  sense  a 


LANGUAGE.  101 

copula,  but  an  ordinary  intransitive  verb, 
referring  to  a  natural  state,  and  not  to  a 
logical  condition,  is  evident  in  two  ways. 
In  the  first  place,  it  ia  never  used  to  predi- 
cate a  quality  directly.  A  Japanese  does 
not  say,  "  The  scenery  is  fine,"  but  simply, 
"  Scenery,  fine."  Secondly,  wherever  this 
verb  is  indirectly  employed  in  such  a  man- 
ner, it  is  followed,  not  by  an  adjective,  but 
by  an  adverb.  Not  "  She  is  beautiful," 
but  "  She  exists  beautifully,"  would  be  the 
Japanese  way  of  expressing  his  admiration. 
What  looks  at  first,  therefore,  like  a  copula 
turns  out  to  be  merely  an  impersonal  in- 
transitive verb. 

A  negative  noun  is,  of  course,  an  impos- 
sibility in  any  language,  just  as  a  negative 
substantive,  another  name  for  the  same 
thing,  is  a  direct  contradiction  in  terms. 
No  matter  how  negative  the  idea  to  be 
given,  it  must  be  conveyed  by  a  positive 
expression.  Even  avoid  is  grammatically 
quite  full  of  meaning,  although  unhappily 
empty  in  fact.  So  much  is  common  to 
all  tongues,  but  Japanese  carries  its  posi- 
tivism yet  further.  Not  only  has  it  no 
negative  nouns,  it  has  not  even  any  nega- 
tive pronouns  nor  pronominal  adjectives,  — 


102    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

those  convenient  keepers  of  places  for  the 
absent.  "None"  and  "nothing"  are  un- 
known words  in  its  vocabulary,  because  the 
ideas  they  represent  are  not  founded  on 
observed  facts,  but  upon  metaphysical  ab- 
stractions. Such  terms  are  human-born, 
not  earth-begotten  concepts,  and  so  to  the 
Far  Oriental,  who  looks  at  things  from  the 
point  of  view  of  nature,  not  of  man,  nega- 
tion takes  another  form.  Usually  it  is  in- 
troduced by  the  verbs,  because  the  verbs, 
for  the  most  part,  relate  to  human  actions, 
and  it  is  man,  not  nature,  who  is  responsi- 
ble for  the  omission  in  question.  After  all, 
it  does  seem  more  fitting  to  say,  "I  am 
ignorant  of  everything,"  than  "  I  know 
nothing."  It  is  indeed  you  who  are  want- 
ing, not  the  thing. 

The  question  of  verbs  leads  us  to  another 
matter  bearing  on  the  subject  of  imperson- 
ality ;  namely,  the  arrangement  of  the 
words  in  a  Japanese  sentence.  The  Tar- 
tar mode  of  grammatical  construction  is 
very  nearly  the  inverse  of  our  own.  The 
fundamental  rule  of  Japanese  syntax  is, 
that  qualifying  words  precede  the  words 
they  qualify ;  that  is,  an  idea  is  elaborately 
modified  before  it  is  so  much  as  expressed. 


LANGUAGE.  103 

This  practice  places  the  hearer  at  some 
awkward  preliminary  disadvantage,  inas- 
much as  the  story  is  nearly  over  before  he 
has  any  notion  what  it  is  all  about ;  but 
really  it  puts  the  speaker  to  much  more 
trouble,  for  he  is  obliged  to  fashion  his 
whole  sentence  complete  in  his  brain  before 
he  starts  to  speak.  This  is  largely  in  conse- 
quence of  two  omissions  in  Tartar  etymol- 
ogy. There  are  in  Japanese  no  relative 
pronouns  and  no  temporal  conjunctions; 
conjunctions,  that  is,  for  connecting  con- 
secutive events.  The  want  of  these  words 
precludes  the  admission  of  afterthoughts. 
Postscripts  in  speech  are  impossible.  The 
functions  of  relatives  are  performed  by  po- 
sition, explanatory  or  continuative  clauses 
being  made  to  precede  directly  the  word 
they  affect.  Ludicrous  anachronisms,  not 
unlike  those  experienced  by  Alice  in  her 
looking-glass  journey,  are  occasioned  by 
this  practice.  For  example,  "The  meriy 
monarch  who  ended  by  falling  a  victim 
to  profound  melancholia "  becomes  "  To 
profound  melancholia  a  victim  by  falling 
ended  merry  monarch,"  and  the  sympa- 
thetic hearer  weeps  first  and  laughs  after- 
ward, when  chronologically  he  should  be 
doing  precisely  the  opposite. 


104         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

A  like  inversion  of  the  natural  order  of 
things  results  from  the  absence  of  temporal 
conjunctions.  In  Japanese,  though  nouns 
can  be  added,  actions  cannot ;  you  can  say 
*'  hat  and  coat,"  but  not  "  dressed  and 
came."  Conjunctions  are  used  only  for 
space,  never  for  time.  Objects  that  exist 
together  can  be  joined  in  speech,  but  it 
is  not  allowable  thus  to  connect  consecu- 
tive events.  "  Having  dressed,  came  "  is 
the  Japanese  idiom.  To  speak  otherwise 
would  be  to  violate  the  unities.  For  a 
Japanese  sentence  is  a  single  rounded 
whole,  not  a  bunch  of  facts  loosely  tied  to- 
gether. It  is  as  much  a  unit  in  its  com- 
position as  a  novel  or  a  drama  is  with  us. 
Such  artistic  periods,  however,  are  any- 
thing but  convenient.  In  their  nicely  con- 
trived involution  they  strikingly  resemble 
those  curious  nests  of  Chinese  boxes,  where 
entire  shells  lie  closely  packed  one  within 
another,  —  a  very  marvel  of  ingenious  and 
perfectly  unnecessary  construction.  One 
must  be  antipodally  comprehensive  to  enter- 
tain the  idea ;  as  it  is,  the  idea  entertains  us. 

On  the  same  general  plan,  the  nouns  pre- 
cede the  verbs  in  the  sentence,  and  are  in 
every  way  the  more  important  parts  of 


LANGUAGE.  105 

speech.  The  consequence  is  that  in  ordi- 
nary conversation  the  verbs  come  so  late  in 
the  day  that  they  not  infrequently  get  left 
out  altogether.  For  the  Japanese  are  much 
given  to  docking  their  phrases,  a  custom 
the  Germans  might  do  well  to  adopt. 
Now,  nouns  denote  facts,  while  verbs  ex- 
press action,  and  action,  as  considered  in 
human  speech,  is  mostly  of  human  origin. 
In  this  precedence  accorded  the  impersonal 
element  in  language  over  the  personal,  we 
observe  again  the  comparative  importance 
assigned  the  two.  In  Japanese  estimation, 
the  first  place  belongs  to  nature,  the  second 
only  to  man. 

As  if  to  mark  beyond  a  doubt  the  insig- 
nificance of  the  part  man  plays  in  their 
thought,  sentences  are  usually  subjectless. 
Although  it  is  a  common  practice  to  begin 
a  phrase  with  the  central  word  of  the  idea, 
isolated  from  what  follows  by  the  empha- 
sising particle  "  wa "  (which  means  "  as 
to,"  the  French  "quant  a"),  the  word  thus 
singled  out  for  distinction  is  far  more  likely 
to  be  the  object  of  the  sentence  than  its 
subject.  The  habit  is  analogous  to  the 
use  of  our  phrase  "  speaking  of,"  —  that  is, 
simply  an  emphatic  mode  of  introducing  a 


106    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

fresh  thought ;  only  that  with  them,  the 
practice  being  the  rule  and  not  the  excep- 
tion, no  correspondingly  abrupt  effect  is 
produced  by  it.  Ousted  thus  from  the  post 
of  honor,  the  subject  is  not  even  permitted 
the  second  place.  Indeed,  it  usually  fails 
to  put  in  an  appearance  anywhere.  You 
may  search  through  sentence  after  sentence 
without  meeting  with  the  slightest  sugges- 
tion of  such  a  thing.  When  so  unusual 
an  anomaly  as  a  motive  cause  is  directly 
adduced,  it  owes  its  mention,  not  to  the 
fact  of  being  the  subject,  but  because  for 
other  reasons  it  happens  to  be  the  impor- 
tant word  of  the  thought.  The  truth  is, 
the  Japanese  conception  of  events  is  only 
very  vaguely  subjective.  An  action  is 
looked  upon  more  as  happening  than  as 
being  performed,  as  impersonally  rather 
than  personally  produced.  The  idea  is 
due,  however,  to  anything  but  philosophic 
profundity.  It  springs  from  the  most  su- 
perficial of  childish  conceptions.  For  the 
Japanese  mind  is  quite  the  reverse  of  ab- 
stract. Its  consideration  of  things  is  con- 
crete to  a  primitive  degree.  The  language 
reflects  the  fact.  The  few  abstract  ideas 
these  people  now  possess  are  not  repre- 


LANGUAGE.  107 

sented,  for  the  most  part,  by  pure  Japanese, 
but  by  imported  Chinese  expressions.  The 
islanders  got  such  general  notions  from 
their  foreign  education,  and  they  imported 
idea  and  word  at  the  same  time. 

Summing  up,  as  it  were,  in  propria  per- 
sona the  impersonality  of  Japanese  speech, 
the  word  for  "  man,"  "  Into,"  is  identical 
with,  and  probably  originally  the  same 
word  as  "  hito,"  the  numeral  "  one ; "  a 
noun  and  a  numeral,  from  which  Aryan 
languages  have  coined  the  only  impersonal 
pronoun  they  possess.  On  the  one  hand, 
we  have  the  German  "  mann ; "  on  the 
other,  the  French  "on."  While  as  if  to 
give  the  official  seal  to  the  oneness  of  man 
with  the  universe,  the  word  mono,  thing, 
is  applied,  without  the  faintest  implication 
of  insult,  to  men. 

Such,  then,  is  the  mould  into  which,  as 
children,  these  people  learn  to  cast  their 
thought.  What  an  influence  it  must  exert 
upon  their  subsequent  views  of  life  we 
have  but  to  ask  of  our  own  memories  to 
know.  With  each  one  of  us,  if  we  are  to 
advance  beyond  the  steps  of  the  last  gen- 
eration, there  comes  a  time  when  our  grow- 
ing ideas  refuse  any  longer  to  fit  the  child- 


108        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAB  EAST. 

ish  grooves  in  which  we  were  taught  to  let 
them  run.  How  great  the  wrench  is  when 
this  supreme  moment  arrives  we  have  all 
felt  too  keenly  ever  to  forget.  We  hesi- 
tate, we  delay,  to  abandon  the  beliefs  which, 
dating  from  the  dawn  of  our  being,  seem  to 
us  even  as  a  part  of  our  very  selves.  From 
the  religion  of  our  mother  to  the  birth  of 
our  boyish  first  love,  all  our  early  associa- 
tions send  down  roots  so  deep  that  long 
after  our  minds  have  outgrown  them  our 
hearts  refuse  to  give  them  up.  Even  when 
reason  conquers  at  last,  sentiment  still 
throbs  at  the  voids  they  necessarily  have 
left. 

In  the  Far  East,  this  fondness  for  the  old 
is  further  consecrated  by  religion.  The 
worship  of  ancestors  sets  its  seal  upon  the 
traditions  of  the  past,  to  break  which  were 
impious  as  well  as  sad.  The  golden  age, 
that  time  when  each  man  himself  was 
young,  has  lingered  on  in  the  lands  where 
it  is  always  morning,  and  where  man  has 
never  passed  to  his  prosaic  noon.  Befitting 
the  place  is  the  mind  we  find  there.  As 
its  language  so  clearly  shows,  it  still  is  in 
that  early  impersonal  state  to  which  we  all 
awake  first  before  we  become  aware  of  that 
something  we  later  know  so  well  as  self. 


LANGUAGE.  109 

Particularly  potent  with  these  people  is 
their  language,  for  a  reason  that  also  lends 
it  additional  interest  to  us,  —  because  it  is 
their  own.  Among  the  mass  of  foreign 
thought  the  Japanese  imitativeness  has 
caused  the  nation  to  adopt,  here  is  one 
thing  which  is  indigenous.  Half  of  the 
present  speech,  it  is  true,  is  of  Chinese  im- 
portation, but  conservatism  has  kept  the 
other  half  pure.  From  what  it  reveals  we 
can  see  how  each  man  starts  to-day  with 
the  same  impersonal  outlook  upon  life  the 
race  had  reached  centuries  ago,  and  which 
it  has  since  kept  unchanged.  The  man's 
mind  has  done  likewise. 


V. 

NATTJKE  AND  AET. 

WE  have  seen  how  impersonal  is  the  form 
which  Far  Eastern  thought  assumes  when 
it  crystallizes  into  words.  Let  us  turn  now 
to  a  consideration  of  the  thoughts  them- 
selves before  they  are  thus  stereotyped  for 
transmission  to  others,  and  scan  them  as 
they  find  expression  unconsciously  in  the 
man's  doings,  or  seek  it  consciously  in  his 
deeds. 

To  the  Far  Oriental  there  is  one  subject 
which  so  permeates  and  pervades  his  whole 
being  as  to  be  to  him,  not  so  much  a  con- 
scious matter  of  thought  as  an  unconscious 
mode  of  thinking.  For  it  is  a  thing  which 
shapes  all  his  thoughts  instead  of  constitut- 
ing the  substance  of  one  particular  set  of 
them.  That  subject  is  art.  To  it  he  is 
born  as  to  a  birthright.  Artistic  percep- 
tion is  with  him  an  instinct  to  which  he 
intuitively  conforms,  and  for  which  he  in- 
herits the  skill  of  countless  generations. 


NATURE  AND  ART.  HI 

From  the  tips  of  his  fingers  to  the  tips  of 
his  toes,  in  whose  use  he  is  surprisingly 
proficient,  he  is  the  artist  all  over.  Ad- 
mirable, however,  as  is  his  manual  dexter- 
ity, his  mental  altitude  is  still  more  to  be 
admired;  for  it  is  artistic  to  perfection. 
His  perception  of  beauty  is  as  keen  as  his 
comprehension  of  the  cosmos  is  crude;  for 
•while  with  science  he  has  not  even  a  speak- 
ing acquaintance,  with  art  he  is  on  terms 
of  the  most  affectionate  intimacy. 

To  the  whole  Far  Eastern  world  science 
is  a  stranger.  Such  nescience  is  patent 
even  in  matters  seemingly  scientific.  For 
although  the  Chinese  civilization,  even  in 
the  so-called  modern  inventions,  was  al- 
ready old  while  ours  lay  still  in  the  cradle, 
it  was  to  no  scientific  spirit  that  its  discov- 
eries were  due.  Notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  Cathay  was  the  happy  possessor  of 
gunpowder,  movable  type,  and  the  com- 
pass before  such  things  were  dreamt  of  in 
Europe,  she  owed  them  to  no  knowledge  of 
physics,  chemistry,  or  mechanics.  It  was 
as  arts,  not  as  sciences,  they  were  invented. 
And  it  speaks  volumes  for  her  civilization 
that  she  burnt  her  powder  for  fireworks, 
not  for  firearms.  To  the  West  alone  be- 


112        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

longs  the  credit  of  manufacturing  that  arti- 
cle for  the  sake  of  killing  people  instead  of 
merely  killing  time. 

The  scientific  is  not  the  Far  Oriental 
point  of  view.  To  wish  to  know  the  rea- 
sons of  things,  that  irrepressible  yearning 
of  the  Western  spirit,  is  no  characteristic 
of  the  Chinaman's  mind,  nor  is  it  a  Tartar 
trait.  Metaphysics,  a  species  of  speculation 
that  has  usually  proved  peculiarly  attrac- 
tive to  mankind,  probably  from  its  not  re- 
quiring any  scientific  capital  whatever, 
would  seem  the  most  likely  place  to  seek 
it.  But  upon  such  matters  he  has  ex- 
pended no  imagination  of  his  own,  having 
quietly  taken  on  trust  from  India  what 
he  now  professes.  As  for  science  proper, 
it  has  reached  at  his  hands  only  the  quasi- 
morphologic  stage ;  that  is,  it  consists  of 
catalogues  concocted  according  to  the  inge- 
nuity of  the  individual  and  resembles  the 
real  thing  about  as  much  as  a  haphazard 
arrangement  of  human  bones  might  be  ex- 
pected to  resemble  a  man.  Not  only  is  the 
spirit  of  the  subject  left  out  altogether,  but 
the  mere  outward  semblance  is  mislead- 
ing. For  pseudo-scientific  collections  of 
facts  which  never  rise  to  be  classifications 


NATURE  AND  ART.  H3 

of  phenomena  forms  to  his  idea  the  acme 
of  erudition.     His  mathematics,  for  exam- 
ple, consists  of  a  set  of    empiric   rules,  of 
which  no  explanation   is   ever  vouchsafed 
the  taught  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  is 
quite  unknown   to  the  teacher.     It  is  not 
even  easy  to  decide  how  much  of  what  there 
is  is  Jesuitical.     Of  more  recent  sciences 
he  has  still  less  notion,  particularly  of  the 
natural  ones.     Physics,  chemistry,  geology, 
and  the  like  are  matters  that  have  never 
entered   his  head.     Even  in  studies  more 
immediately  connected  with  obvious  every- 
day life,  such  as  language,  history,  customs, 
it  is  truly  remarkable  how  little  he  pos- 
sesses the  power  of  generalization  and  in- 
ference.     His   elaborate  lists  of  facts  are 
imposing  typographically,  but  are  not  even 
formally   important,    while    his    reasoning 
about  them  is  as  exquisite  a  bit  of  scien- 
tific satire  as  could  well  be  imagined. 

But  with  the  arts  it  is  quite  another  mat- 
ter. While  you  will  search  in  vain,  in  his 
civilization,  for  explanations  of  even  the 
most  simple  of  nature's  laws,  you  will  meet 
at  every  turn  with  devices  for  the  beautify- 
ing of  life,  which  may  stand  not  unworthily 
beside  the  products  of  nature's  own  skill. 


114       THE  SOUL    OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Whatever  these  people  fashion,  from  the 
toy  of  an  hour  to  the  triumphs  of  all  time, 
is  touched  by  a  taste  unknown  elsewhere. 
To  stroll  down  the  Broadway  of  Tokio  of 
an  evening  is  a  liberal  education  in  every- 
day art.  As  you  enter  it  there  opens  out 
in  front  of  you  a  fairy-like  vista  of  illumi- 
nation. Two  long  lines  of  gayly  lighted 
shops,  stretching  off  into  the  distance,  look 
out  across  two  equally  endless  rows  of 
torch-lit  booths,  the  decorous  yellow  gleam 
of  the  one  contrasting  strangely  with  the 
demoniacal  red  flare  of  the  other.  This 
perspective  of  pleasure  fulfils  its  promise. 
As  your  feet  follow  your  eyes  you  find  your- 
self in  a  veritable  shoppers'  paradise,  the 
galaxy  of  twinkle  resolving  into  worlds  of 
delight.  Nor  do  you  long  remain  a  mei-e 
spectator ;  for  the  shops  open  their  arms  to 
you.  No  cold  glass  reveals  their  charms 
only  to  shut  you  off.  Their  wares  lie  in- 
vitingly exposed  to  the  public,  seeming  to 
you  already  half  your  own.  At  the  very 
first  you  come  to  you  stop  involuntarily,  lost 
in  admiration  over  what  you  take  to  be 
bric-a-brac.  It  is  only  afterwards  you 
learn  that  the  object  of  your  ecstasy  was 
the  commonest  of  kitchen  crockery.  Next 


NATURE  AND  ART.  115 

door  you  halt  again,  this  time  in  front  of 
some  leathern  pocket-books,  stamped  with 
designs  in  color  to  tempt  you  instantly  to 
empty  your  wallet  for  more  new  ones  than 
you  will  ever  have  the  means  to  fill.  If 
you  do  succeed  in  tearing  yourself  away 
purse-whole,  it  is  only  to  fall  a  victim  to 
some  painted  fans  of  so  exquisite  a  make 
and  decoration  that  escape  short  of  posses- 
sion is  impossible.  Opposed  as  stubbornly 
as  you  may  be  to  idle  purchase  at  home, 
here  you  will  find  yourself  the  prey  of  an 
acute  case  of  shopping  fever  before  you 
know  it.  Nor  will  it  be  much  consola- 
tion subsequently  to  discover  that  you  have 
squandered  your  patrimony  upon  the  most 
ordinary  articles  of  every-day  use.  If  in 
despair  you  turn  for  refuge  to  the  booths, 
you  will  but  have  delivered  yourself  into 
the  embrace  of  still  more  irresistible  fasci- 
nations. For  the  nocturnal  squatters  are 
there  for  the  express  purpose  of  catching 
the  susceptible.  The  shops  were  modestly 
attractive  from  their  nature,  but  the  booths 
deliberately  make  eyes  at  you,  and  with 
telling  effect.  The  very  atmosphere  is  be- 
witching. The  lurid  smurkiness  of  the 
torches  lends  an  appropriate  weirdness  to 


116        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  figure  of  the  uncouthly  clad  pedlar  who, 
•with  the  politeness  of  the  arch-fiend  him- 
self, displays  to  an  eager  group  the  fatal 
fascinations  of  some  new  conceit.  Here 
the  latest  thing  in  inventions,  a  gutta-per- 
cha rat,  which,  for  reasons  best  known  to 
the  vender,  scampers  about  squeaking  with 
a  mimicry  to  shame  the  original,  holds  an 
admiring  crowd  spellbound  with  mingled 
trepidation  and  delight.  There  a  native 
zoetrope,  indefatigable  round  of  pleasure, 
whose  top  fashioned  after  the  type  of  a 
turbine  wheel  enables  a  candle  at  the  cen- 
tre ingeniously  to  supply  both  illumination 
and  motive  power  at  the  same  time,  affords 
to  as  many  as  can  find  room  on  its  circum- 
ference a  peep  at  the  composite  antics  of  a 
consecutively  pictured  monkey  in  the  act 
of  jumping  a  box.  Beyond  this  "  wheel  of 
life  "  lies  spread  out  on  a  mat  a  most  happy 
family  of  curios,  the  whole  of  which  you 
are  quite  prepared  to  purchase  en  bloc. 
While  a  little  farther  on  stands  a  flower 
show  which  seems  to  be  coyly  beckoning  to 
you  as  the  blossoms  nod  their  heads  to  an 
imperceptible  breeze.  So  one  attraction 
fairly  jostles  its  neighbor  for  recognition 
from  the  gay  thousands  that  like  yourself 


NATURE  AND  ART.  H7 

stroll  past  in  holiday  delight.  Chattering 
children  in  brilliant  colors,  voluble  women 
and  talkative  men  in  quieter  but  no  less 
picturesque  costumes,  stream  on  in  kaleido- 
scopic continuity.  And  you,  carried  along 
by  the  current,  wander  thus  for  miles  with 
the  tide  of  pleasure-seekers,  till,  late  at 
night,  when  at  last  you  turn  reluctantly 
homeward,  you  feel  as  one  does  when  wak- 
ened from  some  too  delightful  dream. 

Or  instead  of  night,  suppose  it  day  and 
the  place  a  temple.  With  those  who  are 
entering  you  enter  too  through  the  outer 
gateway  into  the  courtyard.  At  the  farther 
end  rises  a  building  the  like  of  which  for 
richness  of  effect  you  have  probably  never 
beheld  or  even  imagined.  In  front  of  you 
a  flight  of  white  stone  steps  leads  up  to  a 
terrace  whose  parapet,  also  of  stone,  rs  dia- 
pered for  half  its  height  and  open  lattice- 
work the  rest.  This  piazza  gives  entrance 
to  a  building  or  set  of  buildings  whose  every 
detail  challenges  the  eye.  Twelve  pillars 
of  snow-white  wood  sheathed  in  part  with 
bronze,  arranged  in  four  rows,  make,  as  it 
were,  the  bones  of  the  structure.  The  space 
between  the  centre  columns  lies  open.  The 
other  triplets  are  webbed  in  the  middle  and 


118         THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

connected,  on  the  sides  and  front,  by  grilles 
of  wood  and  bronze  forming  on  the  outside 
a  couple  of  embrasures  on  either  hand  the 
entrance  in  which  stand  the  guardian  Nio, 
two  colossal  demons,  Gog  and  Magog.  In- 
stead of  capitals,  a  frieze  bristling  with  Chi- 
nese lions  protects  the  top  of  the  pillars. 
Above  this  in  place  of  entablature  rises  tier 
upon  tier  of  decoration,  each  tier  projecting 
beyond  the  one  beneath,  and  the  topmost  of 
all  terminating  in  a  balcony  which  encircles 
the  whole  second  story.  The  parapet  of 
this  balcony  is  one  mass  of  ornament,  and 
its  cornice  another  row  of  lions,  brown  in- 
stead of  white.  The  second  story  is  no  less 
crowded  with  carving.  Twelve  pillars  make 
its  ribs,  the  spaces  between  being  filled 
with  elaborate  woodwork,  while  on  top  rest 
more  friezes,  more  cornices,  clustered  with 
excrescences  of  all  colors  and  kinds,  and 
guarded  by  lions  innumerable.  To  begin 
to  tell  the  details  of  so  multi-faceted  a  gem 
were  artistically  impossible.  It  is  a  jewel  of 
a  thousand  rays,  yet  whose  beauties  blend 
into  one  as  the  prismatic  tints  combine 
to  white.  And  then,  after  the  first  dazzle 
of  admiration,  when  the  spirit  of  curiosity 
urges  you  to  penetrate  the  centre  aisle, 


NATURE  AND  ART.  119 

lo  and  behold  it  is  but  a  gate !  The  dupe  of 
unexpected  splendor,  you  have  been  paying 
court  to  the  means  of  approach.  It  is  only 
a  portal  after  all.  For  as  you  pass  through, 
you  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  building  beyond 
more  gorgeous  still.  Like  in  general  to  the 
first,  unlike  it  in  detail,  resembling  it  only 
as  the  mistress  may  the  maid.  But  who 
shall  convince  of  charm  by  enumerating  the 
features  of  a  face !  From  the  tiles  of  its 
terrace  to  the  encrusted  gables  that  drape 
it  as  with  some  rich  bejewelled  mantle  fall- 
ing about  it  in  the  most  graceful  of  folds, 
it  is  the  very  eastern  princess  of  a  building 
standing  in  the  majesty  of  her  court  to  give 
you  audience. 

A  pebbly  path,  a  low  flight  of  stone  steps, 
a  pause  to  leave  your  shoes  without  the 
sill,  and  you  tread  in  the  twilight  of  rever- 
ence upon  the  moss-like  mats  within.  The 
richness  of  its  outer  ornament,  so  impres- 
sive at  first,  is,  you  discover,  but  prelude 
to  the  lavish  luxury  of  its  interior.  Lac- 
quer, bronze,  pigments,  deck  its  ceiling  and 
its  sides  in  such  profusion  that  it  seems  to 
you  as  if  art  had  expanded,  in  the  conge- 
nial atmosphere,  into  a  tropical  luxuriance 
of  decoration,  and  grew  here  as  naturally 


120        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

on  temples  as  in  the  jungle  creepers  do  on 
trees.  Yet  all  is  but  setting  to  what  the 
place  contains ;  objects  of  bigotry  and  vir- 
tue that  appeal  to  the  artistic  as  much  as 
to  the  religions  instincts  of  the  devout. 
More  sacred  still  are  the  things  treasured  in 
the  sanctum  of  the  priests.  There  you  will 
find  gems  of  art  for  whose  sake  only  the 
most  abnormal  impersonality  can  prevent 
you  from  breaking  the  tenth  commandment. 
Of  the  value  set  upon  them  you  can  form 
a  distant  approximation  from  the  exceeding 
richness  and  the  amazing  number  of  the  silk 
cloths  and  lacquered  boxes  in  which  they 
are  so  religiously  kept.  As  you  gaze  thus, 
amid  the  soul-satisfying  repose  of  the  spot, 
at  some  masterpiece  from  the  brush  of  Mo- 
tonobu,  you  find  yourself  wondering,  in  a 
fanciful  sort  of  way,  whether  Buddhist  con- 
templation is  not  after  all  only  another  name 
for  the  contemplation  of  the  beautiful,  since 
devotees  to  the  one  are  ex  officio  such  vota- 
ries of  the  other. 

Dissimilar  as  are  these  two  glimpses  of 
Japanese  existence,  in  one  point  the  bustling 
street  and  the  hushed  temple  are  alike,  — 
in  the  nameless  grace  that  beautifies  both. 

This  spirit  is  even  more  remarkable  for  its 


NATURE  AND  ART.  121 

all-pervasiveness  than  for  its  inherent  excel- 
lence. Both  objectively  and  subjectively 
its  catholicity  is  remarkable.  It  imbues 
everything,  and  affects  everybody.  So  uni- 
versally is  it  applied  to  the  daily  affairs  of 
life  that  there  may  be  said  to  be  no  mechan- 
ical arts  in  Japan  simply  because  all  sucli 
Lave  been  raised  to  the  position  of  fine  arts. 
The  lowest  artisan  is  essentially  an  artist. 
Modern  French  nomenclature  on  the  sub- 
ject, in  spite  of  the  satire  to  which  the  more 
prosaic  Anglo-Saxon  has  subjected  it,  is 
peculiarly  applicable  there.  To  call  a  Jap- 
anese cook,  for  instance,  an  artist  would 
be  but  the  barest  acknowledgment  of  fact, 
for  Japanese  food  is  far  more  beautiful  to 
look  at  than  agreeable  to  eat ;  while  Tokio 
tailors  are  certainly  masters  of  drapery,  if 
they  are  sublimely  oblivious  to  the  natural 
modelings  of  the  male  or  female  form. 

On  the  other  hand,  art  is  sown,  like  the 
use  of  tobacco,  broadcast  among  the  people. 
It  is  the  birthright  of  the  Far  East,  the  tal- 
ent it  never  hides.  Throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land,  and  from  the  high- 
est prince  to  the  humblest  peasant,  art  reigns 
supreme. 

Now  such  a  prevalence  of  artistic  feeling 


122         THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

implies  of  itself  impersonality  in  the  people. 
At  first  sight  it  might  seem  as  if  science  did 
the  s;mie,  and  that  in  this  respect  the  one 
hemisphere  offset  the  other,  and  that  con- 
sequently both  should  be  equally  imper- 
sonal. But  in  the  first  place,  our  masses 
are  not  imbued  with  the  scientific  spirit,  as 
theirs  are  with  artistic  sensibility.  Who 
would  expect  of  a  mason  an  impersonal  in- 
terest in  the  principles  of  the  arch,  or  of  a 
plumber  a  non-financial  devotion  to  hydrau- 
lics ?  Certainly  one  would  be  wrong  in  cred- 
iting the  masses  in  general  or  European 
waiters  in  particular  with  much  abstract 
love  of  mathematics,  for  example.  In  the 
second  place,  there  is  an  essential  difference 
in  the  attitude  of  the  two  subjects  upon  per- 
sonality. Emotionally,  science  appeals  to 
nobody,  art  to  everybody.  Now  the  emo- 
tions constitute  the  larger  part  of  that  com- 
plex bundle  of  ideas  which  we  know  as  self. 
A  thought  which  is  not  tinged  to  some  ex- 
tent with  feeling  is  not  only  not  personal ; 
properly  speaking,  it  is  not  even  distinc- 
tively human,  but  cosmical.  In  its  lofty 
superiority  to  man,  science  is  unpersonal 
rather  than  impersonal.  Art,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  familiar  spirit.  Through  the  win- 


NATURE  AND  ART.  123 

dows  of  the  senses  she  finds  her  way  into 
the  very  soul  of  man,  and  makes  for  her- 
self a  home  there.  But  it  is  to  his  human- 
ity, not  to  his  individuality,  that  she  whis- 
pers, for  she  speaks  in  that  universal  tongue 
•which  all  can  understand. 

Examples  are  not  wanting  to  substantiate 
theory.  It  is  no  mere  coincidence  that  the 
two  most  impersonal  nations  of  Europe  and 
Asia  respectively,  the  French  and  the  Jap- 
anese, are  at  the  same  time  the  most  artis- 
tic. Even  politeness,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  distinguishes  both,  is  itself  but  a  form 
of  art,  —  the  social  art  of  living  agreeably 
•with  one's  fellows. 

This  impersonality  comes  out  with  all 
the  more  prominence  when  we  pass  from 
the  consideration  of  art  in  itself  to  the 
spirit  which  actuates  that  art,  and  espe- 
cially when  we  compare  their  spirit  with 
our  own.  The  mainsprings  of  Far  Eastera 
art  may  be  said  to  be  three :  Nature,  Reli- 
gion, and  Humor.  Incongruous  collection 
that  they  are,  all  three  witness  to  the  same 
trait.  For  the  first  typifies  concrete  imper- 
sonality, the  second  abstract  impersonality, 
while  the  province  of  the  last  is  to  ridicule 
personality  generally.  Of  the  trio  the  first 


124    THE  SOUL  OF  TEE  FAR  EAST. 

is  altogether  the  most  important.  Indeed, 
to  a  Far  Oriental,  so  fundamental  a  part 
of  himself  is  his  love  of  Nature  that  before 
we  view  its  mirrored  image  it  will  be  well 
to  look  the  emotion  itself  in  the  face.  The 
Far  Oriental  lives  in  a  long  day-dream  of 
beauty.  He  muses  rather  than  reasons, 
and  all  musing,  so  the  word  itself  con- 
fesses, springs  from  the  inspiration  of  a 
Muse.  But  this  Muse  appears  not  to  him, 
as  to  the  Greeks,  after  the  fashion  of  a 
woman,  nor  even  more  prosaically  after  the 
likeness  of  a  man.  Unnatural  though  it 
seem  to  us,  his  inspiration  seeks  no  human 
symbol.  His  Muse  is  not  kin  to  mankind. 
She  is  too  impersonal  for  any  personifica- 
tion, for  she  is  Nature. 

That  poet  whose  name  carries  with  it  a 
certain  presumption  of  infallibility  has  told 
us  that  "  the  proper  study  of  mankind  is 
man  ;  "  and  if  material  advancement  in  con- 
sequence be  any  criterion  of  the  fitness  of 
a  particular  mental  pursuit,  events  have 
assuredly  justified  the  saying.  Indeed,  the 
Levant  has  helped  antithetically  to  preach 
the  same  lesson,  in  showing  us  by  its  own 
fatal  example  that  the  improper  study  of 
mankind  is  woman,  and  that  they  who  but 
follow  the  fair  will  inevitably  degenerate. 


NATURE  AND  ART.  125 

The  Far  Oriental  knows  nothing  of  either 
study,  and  cares  less.  The  delight  of  self- 
exploration,  or  the  possibly  even  greater  de- 
light of  losing  one's  self  in  trying  to  fathom 
femininity,  is  a  sensation  equally  foreign 
to  his  temperament.  Neither  the  remark- 
able persistence  of  one's  own  characteristics, 
not  infrequently  matter  of  deep  regret  to 
their  possessor,  nor  the  charmingly  unac- 
countable variability  of  the  fairer  sex,  at 
times  quite  as  annoying,  is  a  phenomenon 
sufficient  to  stir  his  curiosity.  Accepting, 
as  he  does,  the  existing  state  of  things  more 
as  a  material  fact  than  as  a  phase  in  a 
gradual  process  of  development,  he  regards 
humanity  as  but  a  small  part  of  the  great 
natural  world,  instead  of  considering  it  the 
crowning  glory  of  the  whole.  He  recog- 
nizes man  merely  as  a  fraction  of  the  uni- 
verse, —  one  might  almost  say  as  a  vulgar 
fraction  of  it,  considering  the  low  regard 
in  which  he  is  held,  —  and  accords  him  his 
proportionate  share  of  attention,  and  no 
more. 

In  his  thought,  nature  is  not  accessory  to 
man.  Worthy  M.  Perichon,  of  prosaic,  not 
to  say  philistinic  fame,  had,  as  we  remem- 
ber, his  travels  immortalized  in  a  painting 


126        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

•where  a  colossal  Pe'richon  in  front  almost 
completely  eclipsed  a  tiny  Mont  Blanc  be- 
hind. A  Far  Oriental  thinks  poetry,  which 
may  possibly  account  for  the  fact  that  in 
his  mind-pictures  the  relative  importance  of 
man  and  mountain  stands  reversed.  "  The 
matchless  Fuji,"  first  of  motifs  in  his  art, 
admits  no  pilgrim  as  its  peer. 

Nor  is  it  to  woman  that  turn  his  thoughts. 
Mother  Earth  is  fairer,  in  his  eyes,  than 
are  any  of  her  daughters.  To  her  is  given 
the  heart  that  should  be  theirs.  The  Far 
Eastern  love  of  Nature  amounts  almost  to 
a  passion.  To  the  study  of  her  ever  vary- 
ing moods  her  Japanese  admirer  brings  an 
impersonal  adoration  that  combines  oddly 
the  sestheticism  of  a  poet  with  the  asceti- 
cism of  a  recluse.  Not  that  he  worships  in 
seci-et,  however.  His  passion  is  too  genu- 
ine either  to  find  disguise  or  seek  display. 
With  us,  unfortunately,  the  love  of  Nature 
is  apt  to  be  considered  a  mental  extrava- 
gance peculiar  to  poets,  excusable  in  exact 
ratio  to  the  ability  to  give  it  expression. 
For  an  ordinary  mortal  to  feel  a  fondness 
for  Mother  Earth  is  a  kind  of  folly,  to  be 
carefully  concealed  from  his  fellows.  A 
sort  of  shamefacedness  prevents  him  from 


NATURE  AND  ART.  127 

avowing  it,  as  a  boy  at  boarding-school 
hides  his  homesickness,  or  a  lad  his  love. 
He  shrinks  from  appearing  less  pachy- 
dermatous than  the  rest.  Or  else  he  flies 
to  the  other  extreme,  and  affects  the  odd ; 
pretends,  poses,  parades,  and  at  last  suc- 
ceeds half  in  duping  himself,  half  in  de- 
ceiving other  people.  But  with  Far  Ori- 
entals the  case  is  different.  Their  love  has 
all  the  unostentatious  assurance  of  what 
has  received  the  sanction  of  public  opinion. 
Nor  is  it  still  at  that  doubtful,  hesitating 
stage  when,  by  the  instrumentality  of  a 
third,  its  soul-harmony  can  suddenly  be 
changed  from  the  jubilant  major  key  into 
the  despairing  minor.  No  trace  of  sadness 
tinges  his  delight.  He  has  long  since 
passed  this  melancholy  phase  of  erotic  mis- 
ery, if  so  be  that  the  course  of  his  true  love 
did  not  always  run  smooth,  and  is  now  well 
on  in  matrimonial  bliss.  The  very  look  of 
the  land  is  enough  to  betray  the  fact.  In 
Japan  the  landscape  has  an  air  of  domes- 
ticity about  it,  patent  even  to  the  most 
casual  observer.  Wherever  the  Japanese 
has  come  in  contact  with  the  country  he 
has  made  her  unmistakably  his  own.  He 
has  touched  her  to  caress,  not  injure,  and 


128    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

it  seems  as  if  Nature  accepted  his  fondness 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  yielded  him  a 
wifely  submission  in  return.  His  garden  is 
more  human,  even,  than  his  house.  Not 
only  is  everything  exquisitely  in  keeping 
with  man,  but  natural  features  are  actually 
changed,  plastic  to  the  imprint  of  their 
lord  and  master's  mind.  Bushes,  shrubs, 
trees,  forget  to  follow  their  original  intent, 
and  grow  as  he  wills  them  to;  now  ex- 
panding in  wanton  luxuriance,  now  con- 
tracting into  dwarf  designs  of  their  former 
selves,  all  to  obey  his  caprice  and  please 
his  eye.  Even  stubborn  rocks  lose  their 
wildness,  and  come  to  seem  a  part  of  the 
almost  sentient  life  around  them.  If  the 
description  of  such  dutifulness  seems  fanci- 
ful, the  thing  itself  surpasses  all  supposi- 
tion. Hedges  and  shrubbery,  clipped  into 
the  most  fantastic  shapes,  accept  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  pruning-knife  as  if  man's 
wishes  were  their  own  whims.  Manikin 
maples,  Tom  Thumb  trees,  a  foot  high  and 
thirty  years  old,  with  all  the  gnarls  and 
knots  and  knuckles  of  their  fellows  of  the 
forest,  grow  in  his  parterres,  their  native 
vitality  not  a  whit  diminished.  And  they 
are  not  regarded  as  monstrosities  but  only 


NATURE  AND  ART.  129 

as  the  most  natural  of  artificialities ;  for 
they  are  a  part  of  a  horticultural  whole. 
To  walk  into  a  Japanese  garden  is  like 
wandering  of  a  sudden  into  one  of  those 
strange  worlds  we  see  reflected  in  the  pol- 
ished surface  of  a  concave  mirror,  where 
all  but  the  observer  himself  is  transformed 
into  a  fantastic  miniature  of  the  reality.  In 
that  quaint  fairyland  diminutive  rivers  flow 
gracefully  under  tiny  trees,  past  mole-hill 
mountains,  till  they  fall  at  last  into  lillipu- 
tian  lakes,  almost  smothered  for  the  flowers 
that  grow  upon  their  banks ;  while  in  the 
extreme  distance  of  a  couple  of  rods  the 
cone  of  a  Fuji  ten  feet  high  looks  approv- 
ingly down  upon  a  scene  which  would  be 
nationally  incomplete  without  it. 

But  besides  the  delights  of  domesticity 
which  the  Japanese  enjoys  daily  in  Nature's 
company,  he  has  his  acc£s  de  tendresse,  too. 
When  he  feels  thus  specially  stirred,  he  in- 
vites a  chosen  few  of  his  friends,  equally 
infatuated,  and  together  they  repair  to 
some  spot  noted  for  its  scenery.  It  may 
be  a  waterfall,  or  some  dreamy  pond  over- 
hung by  trees,  or  the  distant  glimpse  of  a 
mountain  peak  framed  in  picture-wise  be- 
tween the  nearer  hills ;  or,  at  their  appro- 


130        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

priate  seasons,  the  blossoming  of  the  many 
tree  flowers,  which  in  eastern  Asia  are 
beautiful  beyond  description.  For  he  ap- 
preciates not  only  places,  but  times.  One 
spot  is  to  be  seen  at  sunrise,  another  by 
moonlight ;  one  to  be  visited  in  the  spring- 
time, another  in  the  fall.  But  wherever  or 
whenever  it  be,  a  tea-house,  placed  to  com- 
mand the  best  view  of  the  sight,  stands 
ready  to  receive  him.  For  nature's  beau- 
ties are  too  well  recognized  to  remain  the 
exclusive  property  of  the  first  chance  lover. 
People  flock  to  view  nature  as  we  do  to  see 
a  play,  and  privacy  is  as  impossible  as  it 
is  unsought.  Indeed,  the  aversion  to  pub- 
licity is  simply  a  result  of  the  sense  of 
self,  and  therefore  necessarily  not  a  feature 
of  so  impersonal  a  civilization.  ./Esthetic 
guidebooks  are  written  for  the  nature  en- 
amoured, descriptive  of  these  views  which 
the  Japanese  translator  quaintly  calls 
"  Sceneries,"  and  which  visitors  come  not 
only  from  near  but  from  far  to  gaze  upon. 
In  front  of  the  tea-house  proper  are  rows 
of  summer  pavilions,  in  one  of  which  the 
party  make  themselves  at  home,  while 
gentle  little  tea-house  girls  toddle  forth  to 
serve  them  the  invariable  preliminary  tea 


NATURE  AND  ART.  131 

and  confections.  Each  man  then  produces 
from  up  his  sleeve,  or  from  out  his  girdle, 
paper,  ink,  and  brush,  and  proceeds  to  com- 
pose a  poem  on  the  beauty  of  the  spot  and 
the  feelings  it  calls  up,  which  he  subse- 
quently reads  to  his  admiring  companions. 
Hot  sake  is  next  served,  which  is  to  them 
•what  beer  is  to  a  German  or  absinthe  to  a 
blouse  ;  and  there  they  sit,  sip,  and  poetize, 
passing  their  couplets,  as  they  do  their  cnps, 
in  honor  to  one  another.  At  last,  after 
drinking  in  an  hour  or  two  of  scenery  and 
sake  combined,  the  symposium  of  poets 
breaks  up. 

Sometimes,  instead  of  a  company  of 
friends,  a  man  will  take  his  family,  wife, 
babies,  and  all,  on  such  an  outing,  but  the 
details  of  his  holiday  are  much  the  same  as 
before.  For  the  scenery  is  still  the  centre 
of  attraction,  and  in  the  attendant  creature 
comforts  Far  Eastern  etiquette  permits  an 
equal  enjoyment  to  man,  woman,  and  child. 
This  love  of  nature  is  quite  irrespective 
of  social  condition.  All  classes  feel  its 
force,  and  freely  indulge  the  feeling.  Poor 
as  well  as  rich,  low  as  well  as  high,  con- 
trive to  gratify  their  poetic  instincts  for 
natural  scenery.  As  for  flowers,  especially 


132    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

tree  flowers,  or  those  of  the  larger  plants, 
like  the  lotus  or  the  iris,  the  Japanese  ap- 
preciation of  their  beauty  is  as  phenomenal 
as  is  that  beauty  itself.  Those  who  can 
afford  the  luxury  possess  the  shrubs  in  pri- 
vate; those  who  cannot,  feast  their  eyes  on 
the  public  specimens.  From  a  sprig  in  a 
vase  to  a  park  planted  on  purpose,  there  is 
no  part  of  them  too  small  or  too  great  to  be 
excluded  from  Far  Oriental  affection.  And 
of  the  two  "drawing-rooms  "  of  the  Mikado 
held  every  year,  in  April  and  November, 
both  are  garden-parties :  the  one  given  at 
the  time  and  with  the  title  of  "  the  cherry 
blossoms,"  and  the  other  of  "  the  chrysan- 
themum." 

These  same  tree  flowers  deserve  more 
than  a  passing  notice,  not  simply  because  of 
their  amazing  beauty,  which  would  arrest 
attention  anywhere,  but  for  the  national  at- 
titude toward  them.  For  no  better  example 
of  the  Japanese  passion  for  nature  could 
well  be  cited.  If  the  anniversaries  of  peo- 
ple are  slightingly  treated  in  the  land  of  the 
sunrise,  the  same  cannot  be  said  of  plants. 
The  yearly  birthdays  of  the  vegetable 
world  are  observed  with  more  than  botanic 
enthusiasm.  The  regard  in  which  they  are 


NATURE  AND  ART.  133 

held  is  truly  emotional,  and  if  not  actually 
individual  in  its  object,  at  least  personal 
to  the  species.  Each  kind  of  tree  as  its 
season  brings  it  into  flower  is  made  the 
occasion  of  a  festival.  For  the  beauty  of 
the  blossoming  receives  the  tribute  of  a  na- 
tional admiration.  From  peers  to  populace 
mankind  turns  out  to  witness  it.  Nor  are 
these  occasions  few.  Spring  in  the  Far 
East  is  one  long  chain  of  flower  fete's,  and 
as  spring  begins  by  the  end  of  January 
and  lasts  till  the  middle  of  June,  opportuni- 
ties for  appreciating  each  in  turn  are  not 
half  spoiled  by  a  common  contemporaneous- 
ness. People  have  not  only  occasion  but 
time  to  admire.  Indeed,  spring  itself  is 
suitably  respected  by  being  dated  conform- 
ably to  fact.  Far  Orientals  begin  their 
year  when  Nature  begins  hers,  instead  of 
starting  anachronously  as  we  do  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  dead  season,  much  as 
our  colleges  hold  their  commencements, 
on  the  last  in  place  of  on  the  first  day 
of  the  academic  term.  So  previous  has 
the  haste  of  Western  civilization  become. 
The  result  is  that  our  rejoicing  partakes  of 
the  incongruity  of  humor.  The  new  year 
exists  only  in  name.  In  the  Far  East,  on 


134    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  other  hand,  the  calendar  is  made  to  fit 
the  time.  Men  begin  to  reckon  their  year 
some  three  weeks  later  than  the  Western 
world,  just  as  the  plum-tree  opens  its  pink 
white  petals,  as  it  were,  in  rosy  reflection 
of  the  snow  that  lies  yet  upon  the  ground. 
But  the  coldness  of  the  weather  does  not 
in  the  least  deter  people  from  thronging 
the  spot  in  which  the  trees  grow,  where 
they  spend  hours  in  admiration,  and  end 
by  pinning  appropriate  poems  on  the  twigs 
for  later  comers  to  peruse.  Fleeting  as 
the  flowers  are  in  fact,  they  live  forever  in 
fancy.  For  they  constitute  one  of  the  com- 
monest motifs  of  both  painting  and  poetry. 
A  branch  just  breaking  into  bloom  seen 
against  the  sunrise  sky,  or  a  bough  bending 
its  blossoms  to  the  bosom  of  a  stream,  is 
subject  enough  for  their  greatest  masters, 
who  thus  wed,  as  it  were,  two  arts  in  one, 
—  the  spirit  of  poesy  with  pictorial  form. 
This  plum-tree  is  but  a  blossom.  Preco- 
cious harbinger  of  a  host  of  flowers,  its  gay 
heralding  over,  it  vanishes  not  to  be  re- 
called, for  it  bears  no  edible  fruit. 

The  next  event  in  the  series  might  fairly 
be  called  phenomenal.  Early  in  April  takes 
place  what  is  perhaps  as  superb  a  sight  as 


NATURE  AND  ART.  135 

anything  in  this  world,  the  blossoming  of 
the  cherry-trees.     Indeed,  it  is  not  easy  to 
do  the  thing  justice  in  description.     If  the 
plum  invited  admiration,  the  cherry  com- 
mands  it ;  for  to  see  the  sakura  in  flower 
for  the  first  time  is  to  experience  a  new 
sensation.     Familiar  as  a  man  may  be  with 
cherry  blossoms  at  home,  the  sight  there 
bursts  upon  him  with  the  dazzling  effect 
of  a  revelation.      Such  is  the  profusion  of 
flowers  that  the  tree  seems  to  have  turned 
into  a  living  mass  of  rosy  light.     No  leaves 
break  the  brilliance.    The  snowy-pink  petals 
cover  the  branches  so  completely  that  one 
is  conscious  of  a  bridal  veil  donned  for  the 
tree's  nuptials  with  the  spring.     For  noth- 
ing  could   more   completely  personify  the 
spirit  of  the  springtime.     You  can  almost 
fancy  it  some  dryad  decked  for  her  bridal, 
in   maidenly  day-dreaming   too   lovely  to 
last.     For  like   the  plum   the  cherry  fails 
in   its   fruit    to   fulfil    the   promise   of  its 
flower. 

It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  so  much 
beauty  received  no  recognition,  but  it  is 
even  more  strange  that  recognition  should 
be  so  complete  and  so  universal  as  it  is. 
Appreciation  is  not  confined  to  the  culti- 


136    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

vated  few;  it  is  shown  quite  as  enthusi- 
astically by  the  masses.  The  popularity  of 
the  plants  is  all-embracing.  The  common 
people  are  as  sensitive  to  their  beauty  as 
are  the  upper  classes.  Private  gratifica- 
tion, roseate  as  it  is,  pales  beside  the  pub- 
lic delight.  Indeed,  not  content  with  what 
revelation  Nature  makes  of  herself  of  her 
own  accord,  man  has  multiplied  her  mani- 
festations. Spots  suitable  to  their  growth 
have  been  peopled  by  him  with  trees. 
Sometimes  they  stand  in  groups  like  star- 
clusters,  as  in  Oji,  crowning  a  hill ;  some- 
times, as  at  Mukojima,  they  line  an  avenue 
for  miles,  dividing  the  blue  river  on  the  one 
hand  from  the  blue-green  rice-fields  on  the 
other,  —  a  floral  milky  way  of  light.  But 
wherever  the  trees  may  be,  there  at  their 
flowering  season  are  to  be  found  throngs  of 
admirers.  For  in  crowds  people  go  out  to 
see  the  sight,  multitudes  streaming  inces- 
santly to  and  fro  beneath  their  blossoms  as 
the  time  of  day  determines  the  turn  of  the 
human  tide.  To  the  Occidental  stranger 
such  a  gathering  suggests  some  social  load- 
stone ;  but  none  exists.  In  the  cherry-trees 
alone  lies  the  a-fctraction. 

For  one  week  out  of  the  fifty-two  the 


NATURE  AND  ART.  137 

cherry-tree  stands  thus  glorified,  a  vision 
of  beauty  prolonged  somewhat  by  the  want 
of  synchronousness  of  the  different  kinds. 
Then  the  petals  fall.  What  was  a  nuptial 
veil  becomes  a  winding-sheet,  covering  the 
sod  as  with  winter's  winding-sheet  of  snow, 
destined  itself  to  disappear,  and  the  tree 
is  nothing  but  a  common  cherry-tree  once 
more. 

But  flowers  are  by  no  means  over  be- 
cause the  cherry  blossoms  are  past.  A 
brief  space,  and  the  same  crowds  that 
flocked  to  the  cherry  turn  to  the  wistaria. 
Gardens  are  devoted  to  the  plants,  and  the 
populace  no  less  devoted  to  the  gardens. 
There  they  go  to  sit  and  gaze  at  the  grape- 
like  clusters  of  pale  purple  flowers  that 
hang  more  than  a  cubit  long  over  the 
wooden  trellis  as  they  stretch  out  to  touch 
the  reflections  of  themselves  in  the  pond 
beneath,  vying  with  one  another  in  Endimi- 
onic  endeavor.  And  the  people,  as  they 
sip  their  tea  on  the  veranda  opposite,  be- 
hold a  doubled  delight,  the  flower  itself  and 
its  mirrored  image. 

After  the  wistaria  comes  the  tree-peony, 
and  then  the  iris,  with  its  trefoil  flowers 
broader  than  a  man  may  span,  and  of  all 


138    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

colors  under  the  sky.  To  one  who  has  seen 
the  great  Japanese  fleur-de-lis,  France  looks 
ludicrously  infelicitous  in  her  choice  of  em- 
blem. 

But  the  list  grows  too  long,  limited  as  it 
is  only  by  its  own  annual  repetition.  We 
have  as  yet  reached  but  the  first  week  in 
June ;  the  summer  and  autumn  are  still  to 
come,  the  first  bringing  the  lotus  for  its 
crown,  and  the  second  the  chrysanthemum. 
And  lazily  grand  the  lotus  is,  itself  the 
embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  the  drowsy 
August  air,  the  very  essence  of  Buddha- 
like  repose.  The  castle  moats  are  its  spe- 
cial domain,  which  in  this  its  flowering 
season  it  wrests  wholly  from  their  more 
proper  occupant  —  the  water.  A  dense 
growth  of  leather-like  leaves,  above  which 
rise  in  majestic  isolation  the  solitary  flow- 
ers, encircles  the  outer  rampart,  shutting 
the  castle  in  as  it  might  be  the  palace 
of  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  In  the  delightful 
dreaminess  that  creeps  over  one  as  he  stands 
thus  before  some  old  Daimio's  former  abode 
in  the  heart  of  Japan,  he  forgets  all  his 
metaphysical  difficulties  about  Nirvana,  for 
he  fancies  he  has  found  it,  one  long  Lotus 
afternoon. 


NATURE  AND  ART.  139 

And  then  last,  but  in  some  sort  first, 
since  it  has  been  taken  for  the  imperial 
insignia,  comes  the  chrysanthemum.  The 
symmetry  of  its  shape  well  fits  it  to  sym- 
bolize the  completeness  of  perfection  which 
the  Mikado,  the  son  of  heaven,  mundanely 
represents.  It  typifies,  too,  the  fullness  of 
the  year ;  for  it  marks,  as  it  were,  the  golden 
wedding  of  the  spring,  the  reminiscence  in 
November  of  the  nuptials  of  the  May.  Its 
own  color,  however,  is  not  confined  to  gold. 
It  may  be  of  almost  any  hue  and  within  the 
general  limits  of  a  circle  of  any  form.  Now 
it  is  a  chariot  wheel  with  petals  for  spokes ; 
now  a  ball  of  fire  with  lambent  tongues  of 
flame;  while  another  kind  seems  the  but- 
ton of  some  natural  legion  of  honor,  and  still 
another  a  pin-wheel  in  Nature's  own  day- 
fireworks. 

Admired  as  a  thing  of  beauty  for  its  own 
sake,  it  is  also  used  merely  as  a  material  for 
artistic  effects  ;  for  among  the  quaintest  of 
Japanese  conceits  are  the  Mrs.  Jarley  chrys- 
anthemum wax-works.  Every  November  in 
the  florists'  gardens  that  share  the  temple 
grounds  at  Asakusa  may  be  seen  groups 
of  historical  and  mythological  figures  com- 
posed entirely  of  chrysanthemum  flowers. 


140         TEE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

These  effigies  are  quite  worthy  of  compari- 
son with  their  London  cousins,  being  suffi- 
ciently life-like  to  terrify  children  and  star- 
tle anybody.  To  come  suddenly,  on  turning 
a  corner,  upon  a  colossal  warrior,  deterreritly 
uncouth  and  frightfully  battle-clad,  in  the 
act  of  dispatching  a  fallen  foe,  is  a  sensa- 
tion not  instantly  dispelled  by  the  fact  that 
he  is  made  of  flowers.  The  practice,  at 
least,  bears  witness  to  an  artistic  ingenuity 
of  no  mean  merit,  and  to  a  horticulture 
ably  carried  on,  if  somewhat  eccentrically 
applied. 

From  the  passing  of  the  chrysanthemum 
dates  the  dead  season.  But  it  is  suitably 
short-lived.  Only  a  couple  of  flowerless 
months  and  the  plum-tree  is  blossoming 
again. 

Even  from  so  imperfectly  gathered  a  gar- 
land it  will  be  seen  that  the  Japanese  do 
not  lack  for  opportunities  to  admire,  nor 
do  they  turn  coldly  away  from  what  they 
are  given.  Indeed,  they  may  be  said  to 
live  in  a  chronic  state  of  flower-fever;  but 
in  spite  of  the  vast  amount  of  admiration 
which  they  bestow  on  plants,  it  is  not  so 
much  the  quantity  of  that  admiration  as 
the  quality  of  it  which  is  remarkable.  The 


NATURE  AND  ART.  141 

intense  appreciation  shown  the  subject  by 
the  Far  Oriental  is  something  whose  very 
character  seems  strange  to  us,  and  when  in 
addition  we  consider  that  it  permeates  the 
entire  people  from  the  commonest  coolie  to 
the  most  aesthetic  courtier,  it  becomes  to 
our  comprehension  a  state  of  things  little 
short  of  inexplicable.  To  call  it  artistic 
sensibility  is  to  use  too  limited  a  terra,  for 
it  pervades  the  entire  people ;  rather  is  it  a 
sixth  sense  of  a  natural,  because  national 
description ;  for  the  trait  differs  from  our 
corresponding  feeling  in  degree,  and  espe- 
cially in  universality  enough  to  merit  the 
distinction.  Their  care  for  tree  flowers  is 
not  confined  to  a  cultivation,  it  is  a  cult.  It 
approaches  to  a  sort  of  natural  nature-wor- 
ship, an  adoration  in  which  nothing  is  per- 
sonified. For  the  emotion  aroused  in  the 
Far  Oriental  is  just  as  truly  an  emotion 
as  it  was  to  the  Greek ;  but  whereas  the 
Greek  personified  its  object,  the  Japanese 
admires  that  object  for  what  it  is.  To 
think  of  the  cherry-tree,  for  instance,  as  a 
woman,  would  be  to  his  mind  a  conception 
transcending  even  the  limits  of  the  ludi- 
crous. 


VI. 

ART. 

THAT  nature,  not  man,  is  their  beau 
ideal,  the  source  to  them  of  inspiration,  is 
evident  again  on  looking  at  their  art.  The 
same  spirit  that  makes  of  them  such  won- 
derful landscape  gardeners  and  such  won- 
der-full landscape  gazers  shows  itself  unmis- 
takably in  their  paintings. 

The  current  impression  that  Japanese 
pictorial  ambition,  and  consequent  skill,  is 
confined  to  the  representation  of  birds  and 
flowers,  though  entirely  erroneous  as  it 
stands,  has  a  grain  of  truth  behind  it. 
This  idea  is  due  to  the  attitude  of  the  for- 
eign observers,  and  was  in  fact  a  tribute  to 
Japanese  technique  rather  than  an  appre- 
ciation of  Far  Eastern  artistic  feeling.  The 
truth  is,  the  foreigners  brought  to  the  sub- 
ject their  own  Western  criteria  of  merit, 
and  judged  everything  by  these  standards. 
Such  works  naturally  commended  them- 
selves most  as  had  least  occasion  to  de- 


ART.  143 

viate  from  their  canons.  The  simplest  pic- 
tures, therefore,  were  pronounced  the  best. 
Paintings  of  birds  and  flowers  were  thus 
admitted  to  be  fine,  because  their  realism 
spoke  for  itself.  Of  the  exquisite  poetic 
feeling  of  their  landscape  paintings  the  for- 
eign critics  were  not  at  first  conscious,  be- 
cause it  was  not  expressed  in  terms  with 
which  they  were  familiar. 

But  first  impressions,  here  as  elsewhere, 
are  valuable.  One  is  very  apt  to  turn  to 
them  again  from  the  reasoning  of  his  sec- 
ond thoughts.  Flora  and  fauna  are  a  con- 
spicuous feature  of  Far  Asiatic  art,  because 
they  enter  as  details  of  the  subject-matter 
of  the  artist's  thoughts  and  day-dreams. 
These  birds  and  flowers  are  his  sujets  de 
genre.  Where  we  should  select  a  phase 
of  human  life  for  effective  isolation,  they 
choose  instead  a  bit  of  nature.  A  spray  of 
grass  or  a  twig  of  cherry-blossoms  is  motif 
enough  for  them.  To  their  thought  its 
beauty  is  amply  suggestive.  For  to  the 
Far  Oriental  all  nature  is  sympathetically 
sentient.  His  admiration,  instead  of  being 
centred  on  man,  embraces  the  universe. 
His  art  reflects  it. 

Leaving  out  of    consideration,   for  the 


144    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

moment,  minor  though  still  important  dis- 
tinctions in  tone,  treatment,  and  technique, 
the  great  fundamental  difference  between 
Western  and  Far  Eastern  art  lies  in  its 
attitude  toward  humanity. 

With  us,  from  the  time  of  the  Greeks  to 
the  present  day,  man  has  been  the  cynosure 
of  artistic  eyes ;  with  them  he  has  never 
been  vouchsafed  more  than  a  casual,  not 
to  say  a  cursory  glance,  even  woman  failing 
to  rivet  his  attention.  One  of  our  own 
writers  has  said  that,  without  passing  the 
bounds  of  due  respect,  a  man  is  permitted 
two  looks  at  any  woman  he  may  meet,  one 
to  recognize,  one  to  admire.  A  Japanese 
ordinarily  never  dreams  of  taking  but  one, 
—  if  indeed  he  goes  so  far  as  that,  —  the 
first.  It  is  the  omitting  to  take  that  sec- 
ond look  that  has  left  him  what  he  is.  Not 
that  Fortune  has  been  unpropitious ;  only 
blind.  Fate  has  offered  him  opportunity 
enough  ;  too  much,  perhaps.  For  in  Japan 
the  exposure  of  the  female  form  is  without 
a  parallel  in  latitude.  Never  naked,  it  is 
frequently  nude.  The  result  artistically  is 
much  the  same,  though  the  cause  be  differ- 
ent. For  it  is  a  fatal  mistake  to  suppose 
the  Japanese  an  immodest  people.  Ac- 


ART.  145 

cording  to  their  own  standards,  they  are 
exceedingly  modest.  No  respectable  Japa- 
nese woman  would,  for  instance,  ever  for  a 
moment  turn  out  her  toes  in  walking.  It 
is  considered  immodest  to  do  so.  Their 
code  is,  however,  not  so  whimsical  as  this 
bit  of  etiquette  might  suggest.  The  intent 
is  with  them  the  touchstone  of  propriety. 
In  their  eyes  a  state  of  nature  is  not  a 
state  of  indecency.  Whatever  exposure  is 
required  for  convenience  is  right ;  whatever 
unnecessary,  wrong.  Such  an  Eden-like 
condition  of  society  would  seem  to  be  the 
very  spot  for  a  something  like  the  modern 
French  school  of  art  to  have  developed  in. 
And  yet  it  is  just  that  study  of  the  nude 
which  has  from  immemorial  antiquity  been 
entirely  neglected  in  the  Far  East.  An  an- 
cient Greek,  to  say  nothing  of  a  modern 
Parisian,  would  have  shocked  a  Japanese. 
Yet  we  are  shocked  by  them.  We  are 
astounded  at  the  sights  we  see  in  their 
country  villages,  while  they  in  their  turn 
marvel  at  the  exhibitions  they  witness  in 
our  city  theatres.  At  their  watering-places 
the  two  sexes  bathe  promiscuously  together 
in  all  the  simplicity  of  nature ;  but  for  a 
Japanese  woman  to  appear  on  the  stage  in 


146        TEE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

any  character,  however  proper,  would  be 
deemed  indecent.  The  difference  between 
the  two  hemispheres  may  be  said  to  consist 
in  an  artless  liberty  on  the  one  hand,  and 
artistic  license  on  the  other.  Their  un- 
written code  of  propriety  on  the  subject 
seems  to  be,  "  You  must  see,  but  you  may 
not  observe." 

These  people  live  more  in  accordance 
with  their  code  of  propriety  than  we  do 
with  ours.  All  classes  alike  conform  to  it. 
The  adjective  "  respectable,"  used  above  as 
a  distinction  in  speaking  of  woman,  was  in 
reality  superfluous,  for  all  women  there,  as 
far  as  appearance  goes,  are  respectable. 
Even  the  most  abandoned  creature  does  not 
betray  her  status  by  her  behavior.  The 
reason  of  this  uniformity  and  its  psycho- 
logical importance  I  shall  discuss  later. 

This  form  of  modesty,  a  sort  of  want  of 
modesty  of  form,  has  no  connection  what- 
ever with  sex.  It  applies  with  equal  force 
to  the  male  figure,  which  is  even  more  ex- 
posed than  the  female,  and  offers  anatomi- 
cal suggestions  invaluable  alike  to  the  ar- 
tistic and  medical  professions,  —  sugges- 
tions that  are  equally  ignored  by  both. 
The  coolies  are  frequently  possessed  of 


ART.  147 

physiques  which  would  have  delighted 
Michael  Angelo  ;  and  as  for  the  phenome- 
nal corpulency  of  the  wrestlers,  it  would 
have  made  of  the  place  a  very  paradise  for 
Rubens.  In  regard  to  the  doctors,  —  for 
to  call  them  surgeons  would  be  to  give  a 
name  to  what  does  not  exist,  —  a  lack  of 
scientific  zeal  has  been  the  cause  of  their 
not  investigating  what  tempts  too  seduc- 
tively, we  should  imagine,  to  be  ignored. 
Acupuncture,  or  the  practice  of  sticking 
long  pins  into  any  part  of  the  patient's 
body  that  may  happen  to  be  paining  him, 
pretty  much  irrespective  of  anatomical  po- 
sition, is  the  nearest  approach  to  surgery 
of  which  they  are  guilty,  and  proclaims  of 
itself  the  in  corpora  vili  character  of  the 
thing  operated  upon. 

Nor  does  the  painter  owe  anything  to 
science.  He  represents  humanity  simply 
as  he  sees  it  in  its  every-day  costume ;  and 
it  betokens  the  highest  powers  of  general- 
ized observation  that  he  produces  the  re- 
sults he  does.  In  his  drawings,  man  is 
shown,  not  as  he  might  look  in  the  primi- 
tive, or  privitive,  simplicity  of  his  ancestral 
Garden  of  Eden,  but  as  he  does  look  in  the 
ordinary  wear  and  tear  of  his  present  gar- 


148         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ments.  Civilization  has  furnished  him  with 
clothes,  and  he  prefers,  when  he  has  his 
picture  taken,  to  keep  them  on. 

In  dealing  with  man,  the  Far  Oriental 
artist  is  emphatically  a  realist ;  it  is  when 
he  turns  to  nature  that  he  becomes  ideal. 
But  by  ideal  is  not  meant  here  conven- 
tional. That  term  of  reproach  is  a  mis- 
nomer, founded  upon  a  mistake.  His 
idealism  is  simply  the  outcome  of  his  love, 
which,  like  all  human  love,  transfigures  its 
object.  The  Far  Oriental  has  plenty  of 
this,  which,  if  sometimes  a  delusion,  seems 
also  second  sight,  but  it  is  peculiarly  imper- 
sonal. His  color-blindness  to  the  warm, 
blood-red  end  of  the  spectrum  of  life  in  no 
wise  affects  his  perception  of  the  colder 
beauty  of  the  great  blues  and  greens  of 
nature.  To  their  poetry  he  is  ever  sensi- 
tive. His  appreciation  of  them  is  some- 
thing phenomenal,  and  his  power  of  pres- 
entation worthy  his  appreciation. 

A  Japanese  painting  is  a  poem  rather 
than  a  picture.  It  portrays  an  emotion 
called  up  by  a  scene,  and  not  the  scene 
itself  in  all  its  elaborate  complexity.  It 
undertakes  to  give  only  so  much  of  it  as  is 
vital  to  that  particular  feeling,  and  in  ten- 


ART.  149 

tionally  omits  all  irrelevant  details.  It  is 
the  expression  caught  from  a  glimpse  of  the 
soul  of  nature  by  the  soul  of  man ;  the 
mirror  of  a  mood,  passing,  perhaps,  in  fact, 
but  perpetuated  thus  to  fancy.  Being  an 
emotion,  its  intensity  is  directly  propor- 
tional to  the  singleness  with  which  it  pos- 
sesses the  thoughts.  The  Far  Oriental 
fully  realizes  the  power  of  simplicity. 
This  principle  is  his  fundamental  canon 
of  pictorial  art.  To  understand  his  paint- 
ings, it  is  from  this  standpoint  they  must  be 
regarded  ;  not  as  soulless  photographs  of 
scenery,  but  as  poetic  presentations  of  the 
spirit  of  the  scenes.  The  very  charter  of 
painting  depends  upon  its  net  giving  us 
charts.  And  if  with  us  a  long  poem  be 
a  contradiction  in  terms,  a  full  picture  is 
with  them  as  self-condemnatory  a  produc- 
tion. From  the  contemplation  of  such 
works  of  art  as  we  call  finished,  one  is 
apt,  after  he  has  once  appreciated  Far 
Eastern  taste,  to  rise  with  an  unpleasant 
feeling  of  satiety,  as  if  he  has  eaten  too 
much  at  the  feast. 

Their  paintings,  by  comparison,  we  call 
sketches.  Is  not  our  would-be  slight  un- 
wittingly the  reverse?  Is  not  a  sketch, 


150        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

after  all,  fuller  of  meaning,  to  one  who 
knows  how  to  read  it,  than  a  finished  affair, 
which  is  very  apt  to  end  with  itself,  barren 
of  fruit?  Does  not  one's  own  imagination 
elude  one's  power  to  portray  it?  Is  it  not 
forever  flitting  will-o'-the-wisp-like  ahead  of 
us  just  beyond  exact  definition  ?  For  the 
soul  of  art  lies  in  what  art  can  suggest,  and 
nothing  is  half  so  suggestive  as  the  half  ex- 
pressed, not  even  a  double  entente.  To  hint 
a  great  deal  by  displaying  a  little  is  more 
vital  to  effect  than  the  cleverest  represen- 
tation of  the  whole.  The  art  of  partially 
revealing  is  more  telling,  even,  than  the 
ars  celare  artem.  Who  has  not  suspected 
through  a  veil  a  fairer  face  than  veil  ever 
hid  ?  Who  has  not  been  delightedly  duped 
by  the  semi-disclosures  of  a  dress?  The 
principle  is  just  as  true  in  any  one  branch 
of  art  as  it  is  of  the  attempted  develop- 
ments by  one  of  the  suggestions  of  another. 
Yet  who  but  has  felt  its  force  there? 
Who  has  not  had  a  shock  of  day-dream 
desecration  on  chancing  upon  an  illustrated 
edition  of  some  book  whose  story  he  had 
lain  to  heart  ?  Portraits  of  people,  pictures 
of  places,  he  does  not  know,  and  yet  which 
purport  to  be  his  !  And  I  venture  to  be- 


ART.  151 

lieve  that  to  more  than  one  of  us  the  ex- 
quisite pathos  of  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor 
is  gone  when  Lucia  warbles  her  woes,  be 
it  never  so  entrancingly,  to  an  admiring 
house.  It  almost  seems  as  if  the  garish 
publicity  of  using  her  name  for  operatic 
title  were  a  special  intervention  of  the 
Muse,  that  we  might  the  less  connect  song 
with  story,  —  two  sensations  that,  like  two 
lights,  destroy  one  another  by  mutual  inter- 
ference. 

Against  this  preference  shown  the  sketch 
it  may  be  urged  that  to  appreciate  such 
suggestions  presupposes  as  much  art  in  the 
public  as  in  the  painter.  But  the  ability 
to  appreciate  a  thing  when  expressed  is  but 
half  that  necessary  to  express  it.  Some  un- 
derstanding must  exist  in  the  observer  for 
any  work  to  be  intelligible.  It  is  only  a 
question  of  degree.  The  greater  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  person  addressed,  the  more 
had  better  be  left  to  it.  Now  in  Japan  the 
public  is  singularly  artistic.  In  fact,  the 
artistic  appreciation  of  the  masses  there  is 
something  astonishing  to  us,  accustomed 
to  our  immense  intellectual  differences  be- 
tween man  and  man.  Sketches  are  thus 
peculiarly  fitting  to  such  a  land. 


152   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

Besides,  there  is  a  quiet  modesty  about 
the  sketch  which  is  itself  taking.  To  at- 
tempt the  complete  even  in  a  fractional  bit 
of  the  cosmos,  like  a  picture,  has  in  it  a  dif- 
ficulty akin  to  the  logical  one  of  proving 
a  universal  negative.  The  possibilities  of 
failure  are  enormously  increased,  and  fail- 
ure is  less  forgiven  for  the  assumption. 
Art  might  perhaps  not  unwisely  follow  the 
example  of  science  in  such  matters  where 
an  exhaustive  work,  which  takes  the  better 
part  of  a  lifetime  to  produce,  is  invariably 
entitled  by  its  erudite  author  an  Elemen- 
tary Treatise  on  the  subject  in  hand. 

To  aid  the  effect  due  to  simplicity  of 
conception  steps  in  the  Far  Oriental's  won- 
derful technique.  His  brush  -  strokes  are 
very  few  in  number,  but  each  one  tells. 
They  are  laid  on  with  a  touch  which  is 
little  short  of  marvelous,  and  requires  he- 
redity to  explain  its  skill.  For  in  his 
method  there  is  no  emending,  no  super- 
position, no  change  possible.  What  he 
does  is  done  once  and  for  all.  The  force 
of  it  grows  on  you  as  you  gaze.  Each 
stroke  expresses  surprisingly  much,  and 
suggests  more.  Even  omissions  are  made 
significant.  In  his  painting  it  is  visibly 


ART.  153 

true  that  objects  can  be  rendered  conspicu- 
ous by  their  very  absence.  You  are  quite 
sure  you  see  what  on  scrutiny  you  discover 
to  be  only  the  illusion  of  inevitable  infer- 
ence. The  Far  Oriental  artist  understands 
the  power  of  suggestion  well ;  for  imagina- 
tion always  fills  in  the  picture  better  than 
the  brush,  however  perfect  be  its  skill. 

Even  the  neglect  of  certain  general  prin- 
ciples which  we  consider  vital  to  effect,  such 
as  the  absence  of  shadows  and  the  lack  of 
perspective,  proves  not  to  be  of  the  impor- 
tance we  imagine.  We  discover  in  these 
paintings  how  immaterial,  artistically,  was 
Peter  Schlimmel's  sad  loss,  and  how  per- 
fectly possible  it  is  to  make  bits  of  discon- 
tinuous distance  take  the  place  effectively 
of  continuous  space. 

Far  Eastern  pictures  are  epigrams  rather 
than  descriptions.  They  present  a  bit  of 
nature  with  the  terseness  of  a  maxim 
of  La  Rochefoucault,  and  they  delight  as 
aphorisms  do  by  their  insight  and  the 
happy  conciseness  of  its  expression.  Few 
aphorisms  are  absolutely  true,  but  their 
boldness  more  than  makes  up  for  what  they 
lack  in  verity.  So  complex  a  subject  is 
life  that  to  state  a  truth  with  all  its  accom- 


154        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

panying  limitations  is  to  weaken  it  at  once. 
Exceptions,  while  demonstrating  the  rule, 
do  not  tend  to  emphasize  it.  And  though 
the  whole  truth  is  essential  to  science,  such 
exhaustiveness  is  by  no  means  a  canon  of 
art. 

Parallels  are  not  wanting  at  home.  What 
they  do  with  space  in  their  paintings  do  we 
not  with  time  in  the  case  of  our  comedies, 
those  acted  pictures  of  life  ?  Should  we 
not  refuse  to  tolerate  a  play  that  insisted 
on  furnishing  us  with  a  full  perspective  of 
its  characters'  past  ?  And  yet  of  the  two,  it 
is  far  perferable,  artistically,  to  be  given  too 
much  in  sequence  than  too  much  at  once. 
The  Chinese,  who  put  much  less  into  a 
painting  than  what  we  deem  indispensable, 
delight  in  dramas  that  last  six  weeks. 

To  give  a  concluding  touch  of  life  to  my 
necessarily  skeleton-like  generalities,  mem- 
ory pictures  me  a  certain  painting  of  Okie's 
which  I  fell  in  love  with  at  first  sight.  It 
is  of  a  sunrise  on  the  coast  of  Japan.  A 
long  line  of  surf  is  seen  tumbling  in  to 
you  from  out  a  bank  of  mist,  just  piercing 
which  shows  the  blood-red  disk  of  the  ris- 
ing sun,  while  over  the  narrow  strip  of 
breaking  rollers  three  cranes  are  slowly 


ART.  155 

sailing  north.  And  that  is  all  you  see. 
You  do  not  see  the  shore ;  you  do  not  see 
the  main  ;  you  are  looking  but  at  the 
border- land  of  that  great  unknown,  the 
heaving  ocean  still  slumbering  beneath  its 
chilly  coverlid  of  mist,  out  of  which  come 
the  breakers,  and  the  sun,  and  the  cranes. 

So  much  for  the  more  serious  side  of  Ja- 
panese fancy ;  a  look  at  the  lighter  leads  to 
the  same  conclusion. 

Hand  in  hand  with  his  keen  poetic  sensi- 
bility goes  a  vivid  sense  of  humor,  —  two 
traits  that  commonly,  indeed,  are  found 
Maying  together  over  the  meadows  of  im- 
agination. For,  as  it  might  be  put,  — 

"  The  heart  that  is  soonest  awake  to  the  flowers 
Is  also  the  first  to  be  touched  by  the  fun." 

The  Far  Oriental  well  exemplifies  this  fact. 
His  art,  wherever  fun  is  possible,  fairly  bub- 
bles over  with  laughter.  From  the  oldest 
masters  down  to  Hokusai,  it  is  constantly 
welling  up  in  the  drollest  conceits.  It  is 
of  all  descriptions,  too.  Now  it  lurks  in 
merry  ambush,  like  the  faint  suggestion  of 
a  smile  on  an  otherwise  serious  face,  so 
subtile  that  the  observer  is  left  wondering 
whether  the  artist  could  have  meant  what 
seems  more  like  one's  own  ingenious  dis- 


156   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

covery;  now  it  breaks  out  into  the  broadest 
of  grins,  absurd  juxtapositions  of  singularly 
happy  incongruities.  For  Hokusai's  cari- 
catures and  Hendschel's  sketches  might  be 
twins.  If  there  is  a  difference,  it  lies  not  so 
much  in  the  artist's  work  as  in  the  greater 
generality  of  its  appreciation.  Humor  flits 
easily  there  at  the  sea-level  of  the  multitude. 
For  the  Japanese  temperament  is  ever  on 
the  verge  of  a  smile  which  breaks  out  with 
catching  naivete*  at  the  first  provocation. 
The  language  abounds  in  puns  which  are 
not  suffered  to  lie  idle,  and  even  poetry 
often  hinges  on  certain  consecrated  plays  on 
words.  From  the  very  constitution  of  the 
people  there  is  of  course  nothing  selfish  in 
the  national  enjoyment.  A  man  is  quite  as 
ready  to  laugh  at  his  own  expense  as  at  his 
neighbor's,  a  courtesy  which  his  neighbor 
cordially  returns. 

Now  the  ludicrous  is  essentially  human  in 
its  application.  The  principle  of  the  syn- 
thesis of  contradictories,  popularly  known 
by  the  name  of  humor,  is  necessarily  limited 
in  its  field  to  man.  For  whether  it  have  to 
do  wholly  with  actions,  or  partly  with  the 
words  that  express  them,  whether  it  be  pre- 
sented in  the  shape  of  a  pun  or  a  pleas- 


ART.  157 

antry,  it  is  in  incongruous  contrasts  that  its 
virtue  lies.  It  is  the  unexpected  that  pro- 
yokes  the  smile.  Now  no  such  incongruity 
exists  in  nature  ;  man  enjoys  a  monopoly 
of  the  power  of  making  himself  ridiculous. 
So  pleasant  is  pleasantry  that  we  do  indeed 
cultivate  it  beyond  its  proper  pale.  But  it 
is  only  by  personifying  Nature,  and  gratui- 
tously attributing  to  her  errors  of  which 
she  is  incapable,  that  we  can  make  fun  of 
her;  as,  for  instance,  when  we  hold  the 
weather  up  to  ridicule  by  way  of  impotent 
revenge.  But  satires  upon  the  clown-like 
character  of  our  climate,  which,  after  the 
lamest  sort  of  a  spring,  somehow  manages 
a  capital  fall,  would  in  the  Far  East  be  as 
out  of  keeping  with  fancy  as  with  fact.  To 
a  Japanese,  who  never  personifies  anything, 
such  innocent  irony  is  unmeaning.  Besides, 
it  would  be  also  untrue.  For  his  May 
carries  no  suggestion  of  unfulfilment  in  its 
name. 

Those  Far  Eastern  paintings  which  have 
to  do  with  man  fall  for  the  most  part 
under  one  of  two  heads,  the  facetious  and 
the  historical.  The  latter  implies  no  partic- 
ularly intimate  concern  for  man  in  himself, 
for  the  past  has  very  little  personality  for 


158    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  present.  As  for  the  former,  its  atten- 
tion is,  if  anything,  derogatory  to  him,  for 
we  are  always  shy  of  making  fun  of  what 
we  feel  to  be  too  closely  a  part  of  ourselves. 
But  impersonality  has  prevented  the  Far 
Oriental  from  having  much  amour  propre, 
He  has  no  particular  aversion  to  carica- 
turing himself.  Few  Europeans,  perhaps, 
would  have  cared  to  perpetrate  a  self-por- 
trait like  one  painted  by  the  potter  Kiusei, 
which  was  sold  me  one  day  as  an  amusing 
tour  de  force  by  a  facetious  picture-dealer. 
It  is  a  composite  picture  of  a  new  kind,  a 
Japanese  variety  of  type  face.  The  great 
potter,  who  was  also  apparently  no  mean 
painter,  has  combined  three  aspects  of  him- 
self in  a  single  representation.  At  first 
sight  the  portrait  appears  to  be  simply  a 
full  front  view  of  a  somewhat  moon-faced 
citizen ;  but  as  you  continue  to  gaze,  it  sud- 
denly dawns  on  you  that  there  are  two 
other  individuals,  one  on  either  side,  hob- 
nobbing in  profile  with  the  first,  the  lines 
of  the  features  being  ingeniously  made  to 
do  double  duty ;  and  when  this  aspect  of  the 
thing  has  once  struck  you,  you  cannot  look 
at  the  picture  without  seeing  all  three  citi- 
zens simultaneously.  The  result  is  doubt- 


ART.  159 

less  more  effective  as  a  composition  than 
flattering  as  a  likeness. 

Far  Eastern  sculpture,  by  its  secondary 
importance  among  Far  Eastern  arts,  wit- 
nesses again  to  the  secondary  importance 
assigned  to  man  at  our  mental  antipodes. 
In  this  art,  owing  to  its  necessary  limita- 
tions, the  representation  of  nature  in  its 
broader  sense  is  impossible.  For  in  the 
first  place,  whatever  the  subject,  it  must  be 
such  as  it  is  possible  to  present  in  one  con- 
tinuous piece ;  disconnected  adjuncts,  as, 
for  instance,  a  flock  of  birds  flying,  which 
might  be  introduced  with  great  effect  in 
painting,  being  here  practically  beyond  the 
artist's  reach.  Secondly,  the  material  be- 
ing of  uniform  appearance,  as  a  rule,  color, 
or  even  shading,  vital  points  in  landscape 
portrayal,  is  out  of  the  question,  unless  the 
piece  were  subsequently  painted,  as  in  Gre- 
cian sculptures,  a  custom  which  is  not  prac- 
tised in  China  or  Japan.  Lastly,  another 
fact  fatal  to  the  representation  of  landscape 
is  the  size.  The  reduced  scale  of  the  repro- 
duction suggests  falsity  at  once,  a  falsity 
whose  belittlement  the  mind  can  neither 
forget  nor  forgive.  Plain  sculpture  is  there- 
fore practically  limited  to  statuary,  either 


160         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

of  men  or  animals.  The  result  is  that  in 
their  art,  where  landscape  counts  for  so 
much,  sculpture  plays  a  very  minor  part. 
In  what  little  there  is,  Nature's  place  is 
taken  by  Buddha.  For  there  are  two 
classes  of  statues,  divided  the  one  from 
the  other  by  that  step  which  separates  the 
sublime  from  the  ridiculous,  namely,  the 
colossal  and  the  diminutive.  There  is  no 
happy  human  mean.  Of  the  first  kind  are 
the  beautiful  bronze  figures  of  the  Buddha, 
like  the  Kamakura  Buddha,  fifty  feet  high 
and  ninety-seven  feet  round,  in  whose  face 
all  that  is  grand  and  noble  lies  sleeping, 
the  living  representation  of  Nirvana;  and 
of  the  second,  those  odd  little  ornaments 
known  as  netsuke,  comical  carvings  for  the 
most  part,  grotesque  figures  of  men  and 
monkeys,  saints  and  sinners,  gods  and  dev- 
ils. Appealing  bits  of  ivory,  bone,  or  wood 
they  are,  in  which  the  dumb  animals  are 
as  speaking  likenesses  as  their  human  fel- 
lows. 

The  other  arts  show  the  same  motif  in 
their  decorations.  Pottery  and  lacquer 
alike  witness  the  respective  positions  as- 
signed to  the  serious  and  the  comic  in  Far 
Eastern  feeling. 


AST.  161 

The  Far  Oriental  makes  fun  of  man  and 
makes  love  to  Nature  ;  and  it  almost  seems 
as  if  Nature  heard  his  silent  prayer,  and 
smiled  upon  him  in  acceptance;  as  if  the 
love-light  lent  her  face  the  added  beauty 
that  it  lends  the  maid's.  For  nowhere  in 
this  world,  probably,  is  she  lovelier  than  in 
Japan :  a  climate  of  long,  happy  means 
and  short  extremes,  months  of  spring  and 
months  of  autumn,  with  but  a  few  weeks 
of  winter  in  between ;  a  land  of  flowers, 
where  the  lotus  and  the  cherry,  the  plum 
and  wistaria,  grow  wantonly  side  by  side ; 
a  land  where  the  bamboo  embosoms  the 
maple,  where  the  pine  at  last  has  found  its 
palm-tree,  and  the  tropic  and  the  temperate 
zones  forget  their  separate  identity  in  one 
long  self-obliterating  kiss. 


VII. 

EELIGION. 

IN  regard  to  their  religion,  nations,  like 
individuals,  seem  singularly  averse  to  prac- 
tising what  they  have  preached.  Whether 
it  be  that  his  self-constructed  idols  prove  to 
the  maker  too  suggestive  of  his  own  intel- 
lectual chisel  to  deceive  him  for  long,  or 
whether  sacred  soil,  like  less  hallowed 
ground,  becomes  after  a  time  incapable  of 
responding  to  repeated  sowings  of  the  same 
seed,  certain  it  is  that  in  spiritual  matters 
most  peoples  have  grown  out  of  conceit 
with  their  own  conceptions.  An  individ- 
ual may  cling  with  a  certain  sentiment  to 
the  religion  of  his  mother,  but  nations 
have  shown  anything  but  a  foolish  fond- 
ness for  the  sacred  superstitions  of  their 
great-grandfathers.  To  the  charm  of  crea- 
tion succeeds  invariably  the  bitter-sweet 
after -taste  of  criticism,  and  man  would 
not  be  the  progressive  animal  he  is  if  he 
long  remained  in  love  with  his  own  pro- 
ductions. 


RELIGION.  163 

What  his  future  will  be  is  too  engross- 
ing a  subject,  and  one  too  deeply  shrouded 
in  mystery,  not  to  be  constantly  pictured 
anew.  No  wonder  that  the  consideration  of 
that  country  toward  which  mankind  is  ever 
being  hastened  should  prove  as  absorbing 
to  fancy  as  contemplated  earthly  journeys 
proverbially  are.  Few  people  but  have 
laid  out  skeleton  tours  through  its  ideal 
regions,  and  perhaps,  as  in  the  mapping 
beforehand  of  merely  mundane  travels,  one 
element  of  attraction  has  always  consisted 
in  the  possible  revision  of  one's  routes. 

Besides,  there  is  a  fascination  about  the 
foreign  merely  because  it  is  such.  Dis- 
tance lends  enchantment  to  the  views  of 
others,  and  never  more  so  than  when  those 
views  are  religious  visions.  An  enthusiast 
has  certainly  a  greater  chance  of  being 
taken  for  a  god  among  a  people  who  do  not 
know  him  intimately  as  a  man.  So  with 
his  doctrines.  The  imported  is  apt  to  seem 
more  important  than  the  home-made  ;  as 
the  far-off  bewitches  more  easily  than  the 
near.  But  just  as  castles  in  the  air  do  not 
commonly  become  the  property  of  their 
builders,  so  mansions  in  the  skies  almost 
as  frequently  have  failed  of  being  directly 


164   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

inherited.  Rather  strikingly  has  this  been 
the  case  with  what  are  to-day  the  two  most 
powerful  religions  of  the  world,  —  Bud- 
dhism and  Christianity.  Neither  is  now  the 
belief  of  its  founder's  people.  What  was 
Aryan-born  has  become  Turanian-bred,  and 
what  was  Semitic  by  conception  is  at  pres- 
ent Aryan  by  adoption.  The  possibilities 
of  another's  hereafter  look  so  much  rosier 
than  the  limitations  of  one's  own  present ! 

Few  pastimes  are  more  delightful  than 
tossing  pebbles  into  some  still,  dark  pool, 
and  watching  the  waves  that  leap  in  an- 
swer, as  they  run  in  ever  widening  circles 
to  the  shore.  Most  of  us  as  boys  have 
felt  its  fascination  second  only  to  the 
dotted  spiral  of  the  skipping-stone,  a  fas- 
cination not  outgrown  with  years.  There 
is  something  singularly  attractive  in  the 
subtle  force  that  sways  each  particle  of 
the  surface  only  to  pass  on  to  the  next, 
a  motion  mysterious  in  its  immateriality. 
Some  such  pleasure  must  be  theirs  who 
have  thrown  their  thoughts  into  the  hearts 
of  men,  and  seen  them  spread  in  waves  of 
feeling,  whose  sphere  keeps  widening  as  it 
moves  on.  For  like  the  mobile  water  is 
the  mind  of  man,  —  quick  to  catch  emo- 


RELIGION.  165 

tions,  quick  to  transmit  them.  Of  all  waves 
of  emotion,  this  is  not  the  least  true  of  reli- 
gious ones,  that,  starting  from  their  birth- 
place, pass  out  to  stir  others,  who  have  but 
humanity  in  common  with  those  who  pro- 
fessed them  first.  Like  the  waves  in  the 
pool,  too,  they  leave  their  original  converts 
to  sink  back  again  into  comparative  quies- 
cence, as  they  advance  to  throw  into  sud- 
den tremors  hordes  of  outer  barbarians.  In 
both  of  the  great  religions  in  question  this 
wave  propagation  has  been  most  marked, 
only  the  direction  it  took  differed.  Chris- 
tianity went  westward ;  Buddhism  travelled 
east.  Proselytes  in  Asia  Minor,  Greece, 
and  Italy  find  counterparts  in  Eastern  India, 
Burmah,  and  Thibet.  Gradually  the  taught 
surpassed  their  teachers  both  in  zeal  and 
numbers.  Jerusalem  and  Benares  event- 
ually gave  place  to  Rome  and  Lassa  as  sa- 
cerdotal centres.  Still  the  movement  jour- 
neyed on.  Popes  and  Lhamas  remained 
where  their  predecessors  had  founded  sees, 
but  the  tide  of  belief  surged  past  them  in 
its  irresistible  advance.  Farther  yet  from 
where  each  faith  began  are  to  be  found  at 
present  the  greater  part  of  its  adherents. 
The  home  that  the  Western  hemisphere 


166        THE   SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

seems  to  promise  to  the  one,  the  extreme 
Orient  affords  the  other.  As  Roman  Ca- 
tholicism now  looks  to  America  for  its 
strength,  so  Buddhism  to-day  finds  its  wor- 
shippers principally  in  China  and  Japan. 

But  though  the  Japanese  may  be  said  to 
be  all  Buddhists,  Buddhist  is  by  no  means 
all  that  they  are.  At  the  time  of  their 
adoption  of  the  great  Indian  faith,  the  Ja- 
panese were  already  in  possession  of  a  sys- 
tem of  superstition  which  has  held  its  own 
to  this  day.  In  fact,  as  the  state  religion 
of  the  land,  it  has  just  experienced  a  re- 
vival, a  regalvanizing  of  its  old-time  energy, 
at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Satow  and  of  some  of 
the  native  archaeologists.  Formerly  this 
body  of  belief  was  the  national  faith,  the 
Mikado,  the  direct  descendant  of  the  early 
gods,  being  its  head  on  earth.  His  rein- 
statement to  temporal  power  formed  a  very 
fitting  first  step  toward  reinvesting  the  cult 
with  its  former  prestige  :  a  curious  instance, 
indeed,  of  a  religious  revival  due  to  archaeo- 
logical, not  to  religious  zeal,  and  to  foreign 
more  than  to  native  enthusiasm. 

This  cult  is  the  mythological  inheritance 
of  the  whole  eastern  seaboard  of  Asia,  from 
Siam  to  Kamtchatka.  In  Japan  it  is  called 


RELIGION.  167 

Shintoism.  The  word  "  Shinto  "  means  lit- 
erally "  the  way  of  the  gods,"  and  the 
letter  of  its  name  is  a  true  exponent  of  the 
spirit  of  the  belief.  For  its  scriptures  are 
rather  an  itinerary  of  the  gods'  lives  than 
a  guide  to  that  road  by  which  man  himself 
may  attain  to  immortality.  Thus  with  a 
certain  fitness  pilgrimages  are  its  most  no- 
ticeable rites.  One  cannot  journey  any- 
where in  the  heart  of  Japan  without  meet- 
ing multitudes  of  these  pilgrims,  with  their 
neat  white  leggings  and  their  mushroom- 
like  hats,  nor  rest  at  night  at  any  inn  that 
is  not  hung  with  countless  little  banners 
of  the  pilgrim  associations,  of  which  they 
all  are  members.  Being  a  pilgrim  there 
is  equivalent  to  being  a  tourist  here,  only 
that  to  the  excitement  of  doing  the  coun- 
try is  added  a  sustaining  sense  of  the  mer- 
itoriousness  of  the  deed.  Oftener  than 
not  the  objective  point  of  the  devout  is 
the  summit  of  some  noted  mountain.  For 
peaks  are  peculiarly  sacred  spots  in  the 
Shinto  faith.  The  fact  is  perhaps  an  ex- 
pression of  man's  instinctive  desire  to  rise, 
as  if  the  bodily  act  in  some  wise  betokened 
the  mental  action.  The  shrine  in  so  ex- 
alted a  position  is  of  the  simplest :  a  rude 


168        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

hut,  with  or  without  the  only  distinctive 
emblems  of  the  cult,  a  mirror  typical  of  the 
god  and  the  pendent  gohei,  or  zigzag  strips 
of  paper,  permanent  votive  offerings  of 
man.  As  for  the  belief  itself,  it  is  but  the 
deification  of  those  natural  elements  which 
aboriginal  man  instinctively  wonders  at  or 
fears,  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  thunder,  the 
lightning,  and  the  wind ;  all,  in  short,  that 
he  sees,  hears,  and  feels,  yet  cannot  com- 
prehend. He  clothes  his  terrors  with  forms 
which  resemble  the  human,  because  he  can 
conceive  of  nothing  else  that  could  cause 
the  unexpected.  But  the  awful  shapes  he 
conjures  up  have  naught  in  common  with 
himself.  They  are  far  too  fearful  to  be 
followed.  Their  way  is  the  "highway  of 
the  gods,"  but  no  Jacob's  ladder  for  way- 
ward man. 

In  this  externality  to  the  human  lies  the 
reason  that  Shintoism  and  Buddhism  can 
agree  so  well,  and  can  both  join  with  Con- 
fucianism in  helping  to  form  that  happy 
family  of  faith  which  is  so  singular  a  fea- 
ture of  Far  Eastern  religious  capability.  It 
is  not  simply  that  the  two  contrive  to  live 
peaceably  together  ;  they  are  actually  both 
of  them  implicitly  believed  by  the  same 


RELIGION.  169 

individual.  Millions  of  Japanese  are  good 
Buddhists  and  good  Shintoists  at  the  same 
time.  That  such  a  combination  should  be 
possible  is  due  to  the  essential  difference  in 
the  character  of  the  two  beliefs.  The  one 
is  extrinsic,  the  other  intrinsic,  in  its  rela- 
tions to  the  human  soul.  Shintoism  tells 
man  but  little  about  himself  and  his  here- 
after; Buddhism,  little  but  about  himself 
and  what  he  may  become.  In  examining 
Far  Eastern  religion,  therefore,  for  person- 
ality, or  the  reverse,  we  may  dismiss  Shin- 
toism as  having  no  particular  bearing  upon 
the  subject.  The  only  effect  it  has  is  indi- 
rect in  furthering  the  natural  propensity  of 
these  people  to  an  adoration  of  nature. 

In  Korea  and  in  China,  again,  Confucian- 
ism is  the  great  moral  law,  as  by  reflection 
it  is  to  a  certain  extent  in  Japan.  But  that 
in  its  turn  may  be  omitted  in  the  present 
argument,  inasmuch  as  Confucius  taught 
confessedly  and  designedly  only  a  system 
of  morals,  and  religiously  abstained  from 
pronouncing  any  opinion  whatever  upon 
the  character  or  the  career  of  the  human 
soul. 

Taouism,  the  third  great  religion  of 
China,  resembles  Shintoism  to  this  extent, 


170    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

that  it  is  a  body  of  superstition,  and  not  a 
form  of  philosophy.  It  undertakes  to  pro- 
vide nostrums  for  spiritual  ills,  but  is  dumb 
as  to  the  constitution  of  the  soul  for  which 
it  professes  to  prescribe.  Its  pills  are  to  be 
swallowed  unquestioningly  by  the  patient, 
and  are  warranted  to  cure  ;  and  owing  to 
the  two  great  human  frailties,  fear  and  cre- 
dulity, its  practice  is  very  large.  Possess- 
ing, however,  no  philosophic  diploma,  it  is 
without  the  pale  of  the  present  discussion. 

The  demon-worship  of  Korea  is  a  mild 
form  of  the  same  thing  with  the  hierarchy 
left  out,  every  man  there  being  his  own  spir- 
itual adviser.  An  ordinary  Korean  is  born 
with  an  innate  belief  in  malevolent  spirits, 
whom  he  accordingly  propitiates  from  time 
to  time.  One  of  nobler  birth  propitiates 
only  the  spirits  of  his  own  ancestors. 

We  come,  then,  by  a  process  of  elimina- 
tion to  a  consideration  of  Buddhism,  the 
great  philosophic  faith  of  the  whole  Far 
East. 

Not  uncommonly  in  the  courtyard  of  a 
Japanese  temple,  in  the  solemn  half-light 
of  the  sombre  firs,  there  stands  a  large 
stone  basin,  cut  from  a  single  block,  and 
filled  to  the  briin  with  water.  The  trees, 


RELIGION.  171 

the  basin,  and  a  few  stone  lanterns  —  so 
called  from  their  form,  and  not  their  func- 
tion, for  they  have  votive  pebbles  where  we 
should  look  for  wicks  —  are  the  sole  occu- 
pants  of    the   place.     Sheltered  from  the 
wind,   withdrawn    from    sound,   and    only 
piously  approached  by  man,  this  antecham- 
ber of   the  god  seems  the  very  abode  of 
silence    and   rest.      It   might  be   Nirvana 
itself,  human   entrance   to  an  immortality 
like  the  god's  within,  so  peaceful,  so  perva- 
sive is  its  calm;    and  in  its  midst  is  the 
moss-covered  monolith,  holding  in  its  em- 
brace the  little  imprisoned  pool  of  water. 
So  still  is  the  spot  and  so  clear  the  liquid 
that  you  know  the  one  only  as  the  reflec- 
tion of   the  other.     Mirrored  in  its  glassy 
surface  appears  everything  around  it.     As 
you  peer  in,  far  down  you  see  a  tiny  bit 
of  sky,  as  deep  as  the  blue  is  high  above, 
across  which  slowly  sail  the  passing  clouds ; 
then  nearer  stand  the  trees,  arching  over- 
head, as  if  bending  to   catch  glimpses  of 
themselves  in  that  other  world  below ;  and 
then,  nearer  yet  —  yourself. 

Emblem  of  the  spirit  of  man  is  this  little 
pool  to  Far  Oriental  eyes.  Subtile  as  the 
soul  is  the  incomprehensible  water ;  so  re- 


172         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

sponsive  to  light  that  it  remains  itself  in- 
visible ;  so  clear  that  it  seems  illusion ! 
Though  portrayer  so  perfect  of  forms  about 
it,  all  we  know  of  the  thing  itself  is  that  it 
is.  Through  none  of  the  five  senses  do  we 
perceive  it.  Neither  sight,  nor  hearing,  nor 
taste,  nor  smell,  nor  touch  can  tell  us  it  ex- 
ists ;  we  feel  it  to  be  by  the  muscular  sense 
alone,  that  blind  and  dumb  analogue  for 
the  body  of  what  consciousness  is  for  the 
soul.  Only  when  disturbed,  troubled,  does 
the  water  itself  become  visible,  and  then  it 
is  but  the  surface*  that  we  see.  So  to  the 
Far  Oriental  this  still  little  lake  typifies  the 
soul,  the  eventual  purification  of  his  own ; 
a  something  lost  in  reflection,  self-effaced, 
only  the  alter  ego  of  the  outer  world. 

For  contemplation,  not  action,  is  the  Far 
Oriental's  ideal  of  life.  The  repose  of  self- 
adjustment  like  that  to  which  our  whole 
solar  system  is  slowly  tending  as  its  death, 
—  this  to  him  appears,  though  from  no 
scientific  deduction,  the  end  of  all  exist- 
ence. So  he  sits  and  ponders,  abstractly, 
vaguely,  upon  everything  in  general,  —  syn- 
onym, alas,  to  man's  finite  mind,  for  nothing 
in  particular,  —  till  even  the  sense  of  self 
seems  to  vanish,  and  through  the  mistlike 


RELIGION.  173 

portal  of  unconsciousness  lie  floats  out  into 
the  vast  indistinguishable  sameness  of  Nir- 
vana's sea. 

At  first  sight  Buddhism  is  much  more 
like  Christianity  than  those  of  us  who  stay 
at  home  and  speculate  upon  it  commonly 
appreciate.  As  a  system  of  philosophy  it 
sounds  exceedingly  foreign,  but  it  looks  un- 
expectedly familiar  as  a  faith.  Indeed,  the 
one  religion  might  well  pass  for  the  coun- 
terfeit presentment  of  the  other.  The  re- 
semblance so  struck  the  early  Catholic  mis- 
sionaries that  they  felt  obliged  to  explain 
the  remai'kable  similarity  between  the  two. 
With  them  ingenuous  surprise  instantly  be- 
got ingenious  sophistry.  Externally,  the 
likeness  was  so  exact  that  at  first  they 
could  not  bring  themselves  to  believe  that 
the  Buddhist  ceremonials  had  not  been 
filched  bodily  from  the  practices  of  the  true 
faith.  Finding,  however,  that  no  known 
human  agency  had  acted  in  the  matter, 
they  bethought  them  of  introducing,  to 
account  for  things,  a  deus  ex  machina 
in  the  shape  of  the  devil.  They  were  so 
pleased  with  this  solution  of  the  difficulty 
that  they  imparted  it  at  once  with  much 
pride  to  the  natives.  You  have  indeed  got, 


174        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

they  graciously  if  somewhat  gratuitously 
informed  them,  the  outward  semblance  of 
the  true  faith,  but  you  are  in  fact  the  mis- 
erable victims  of  an  impious  fraud.  Satan 
has  stolen  the  insignia  of  divinity,  and  is 
now  masquerading  before  you  as  the  deity  ; 
your  god  is  really  our  devil,  —  a  recognition 
of  antipodal  inversion  truly  worthy  the 
Jesuitical  mind ! 

Perhaps  it  is  not  matter  for  great  sur- 
prise that  they  converted  but  few  of  their 
hearers.  The  suggestion  was  hardly  so  dip- 
lomatic as  might  have  been  expected  from 
so  generally  astute  a  body  ;  for  it  could  not 
make  much  difference  what  the  all-presid- 
ing deity  was  called,  if  his  actions  were  the 
same,  since  his  motives  were  beyond  human 
observation.  Besides,  the  bare  idea  of  a 
foreign  bogus  was  not  very  terrifying.  The 
Chinese  possessed  too  many  familiar  devils 
of  their  own.  But  there  was  another  and 
a  much  deeper  reason,  which  we  shall  come 
to  later,  why  Christianity  made  but  little 
headway  in  the  Far  East. 

But  it  is  by  no  means  in  externals  only 
that  the  two  religions  are  alike.  If  the 
first  glance  at  them  awakens  that  peculiar 
sensation  which  most  of  us  have  felt  at 


RELIGION.  175 

some  time  or  other,  a  sense  of  having  seen 
all  this  before,  further  scrutiny  reveals  a 
deeper  agreement  than  merely  in  appear- 
ances. 

In  passing  from  the  surface  into  the  sub- 
stance, it  may  be  mentioned  incidentally 
that  the  codes  of  morality  of  the  two  are 
about  on  a  level.  I  say  incidentally,  for  so 
far  as  its  practice,  certainly,  is  concerned, 
if  not  its  preaching,  morality  has  no  more 
intimate  connection  with  religion  than  it 
has  with  art  or  politics.  If  we  doubt  this, 
we  have  but  to  examine  the  facts.  Are  the 
most  religious  peoples  the  most  moral  ?  It 
needs  no  prolonged  investigation  to  con- 
vince us  that  they  are  not.  If  proof  of  the 
want  of  a  bond  were  required,  the  matter 
of  truth-telling  might  be  adduced  in  point. 
As  this  is  a  subject  upon  which  a  slight 
misconception  exists  in  the  minds  of  some 
evangelically  persuaded  persons,  and  be- 
cause, what  is  more  generally  relevant,  the 
presence  of  this  quality,  honesty  in  word 
and  deed,  has  more  than  almost  any  other 
one  characteristic  helped  to  put  us  in  the 
van  of  the  world's  advance  to-day,  it  may 
not  unfittingly  be  cited  here. 

The  argument  in  the  case  may  be  put 


176    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

thus.  Have  specially  religious  races  been 
proportionally  truth-telling  ones  ?  If  not, 
has  there  been  any  other  cause  at  work  in 
the  development  of  mankind  tending  to 
increase  veracity  ?  The  answer  to  the  first 
question  has  all  the  simplicity  of  a  plain 
negative.  No  such  pleasing  concomitance 
of  characteristics  is  observable  to-day,  or 
has  been  presented  in  the  past.  Permit- 
ting, however,  the  dead  past  to  bury  its 
shortcomings  in  oblivion,  let  us  look  at  the 
world  as  we  find  it.  We  observe,  then, 
that  the  religious  spirit  is  quite  as  strong 
in  Asia  as  it  is  in  Europe ;  if  anything,  that 
at  the  present  time  it  is  rather  stronger. 
The  average  Brahman,  Mahometan,  or  Bud- 
dhist is  quite  as  devout  as  the  ordinary 
Roman  Catholic  or  Presbyterian.  If  he  is 
somewhat  less  given  to  propagandism,  he  is 
not  a  whit  less  regardful  of  his  own  salva- 
tion. Yet  throughout  the  Orient  truth  is 
a  thing  unknown,  lies  of  courtesy  being  de 
rigueur  and  lies  of  convenience  de  raison; 
while  with  us,  fortunately,  mendacity  is 
generally  discredited.  But  we  need  not 
travel  so  far  for  proof.  The  same  is  evident 
in  less  antipodal  relations.  Have  the  least 
religious  nations  of  Europe  been  any  less 


RELIGION.  177 

truthful  than  the  most  bigoted  ?  Was  fa- 
natic Spain  remarkable  for  veracity  ?  Was 
Loyola  a  gentleman  whose  assertions  carried 
conviction  other  than  to  the  stake  ?  Were 
the  eminently  mundane  burghers  whom  he 
persecuted  noted  for  a  pious  superiority  to 
fact  ?  Or,  to  narrow  the  field  still  further, 
and  scan  the  circle  of  one's  own  acquaint- 
ance, are  the  most  believing  individuals 
among  them  worthy  of  the  most  belief? 
Assuredly  not. 

We   come,  then,   to  the  second  point. 
Has  there  been  any  influence  at  work  to 
differentiate   us   in  this   respect  from  Far 
Orientals?      There    has.      Two    separate 
causes,  in  fact,  have  conduced  to  the  same 
result.      The   one  is  the   development  of 
physical  science ;  the  other,  the  extension 
of  trade.     The  sole  object  of  science  being 
to  discover  truth,  truth-telling  is  a  necessity 
of  its  existence.     Professionally,  scientists 
are  obliged  to   be  truthful.      Aliter  of  a 
Jesuit. 

So  long  as  science  was  of  the  closet,  its 
influence  upon  mankind  generally  was  in- 
direct and  slight;  but  so  soon  as  it  pro- 
ceeded to  stalk  into  the  street  and  earn  its 
own  living,  its  veracious  character  began  to 


178         THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

tell.  When  out  of  its  theories  sprang  in- 
ventions and  discoveries  that  revolution- 
ized every-day  affairs  and  changed  the  very 
face  of  things,  society  insensibly  caught  its 
spirit.  Man  awoke  to  the  inestimable  value 
of  exactness.  From  scientists  proper,  the 
spirit  filtered  down  through  every  stratum 
of  education,  till  to-day  the  average  man  is 
born  exact  to  a  degree  which  his  forefathers 
never  dreamed  of  becoming.  To-day,  as  a 
rule,  the  more  intelligent  the  individual,  the 
more  truthful  he  is,  because  the  more  in- 
nately exact  in  thought,  and  thence  in  word 
and  action.  With  us,  to  lie  is  a  sign  of  a 
want  of  cleverness,  not  of  an  excess  of  it. 

The  second  cause,  the  extension  of  trade, 
has  inculcated  the  same  regard  for  veracity 
through  the  pocket.  For  with  the  increase 
of  business  transactions  in  both  time  and 
space,  the  telling  of  the  truth  has  become 
a  financial  necessity.  Without  it,  trade 
would  come  to  a  standstill  at  once.  Our 
whole  mercantile  system,  a  modern  piece 
of  mechanism  unknown  to  the  East  till  we 
imported  it  thither,  turns  on  an  implicit 
belief  in  the  word  of  one's  neighbor.  Our 
legal  safeguards  would  snap  like  red  tape 
were  the  great  bond  of  mutual  trust  once 


RELIGION.  179 

broken.  Western  civilization  has  to  be 
truthful,  or  perish. 

And  now  for  the  spirits  of  the  two  be- 
liefs. 

The  soul  of  any  religion  realizes  in  one 
respect  the  Brahman  idea  of  the  individual 
soul  of  man,  namely,  that  it  exists  much 
after  the  manner  of  an  onion,  in  many  con- 
centric envelopes.  Man,  they  tell  us,  is 
composed  not  of  a  single  body  simply,  but 
of  several  layers  of  body,  each  shell  as  it 
were  respectively  inclosing  another.  The 
outermost  is  the  merely  material  body,  of 
which  we  are  so  directly  cognizant.  This 
encases  a  second,  more  spiritual,  but  yet 
not  wholly  free  from  earthly  affinities. 
This  contains  another,  still  more  refined ; 
till  finally,  inside  of  all  is  that  immaterial 
something  which  they  conceive  to  consti- 
tute the  soul.  This  eventual  residuum  ex- 
emplifies the  Franciscan  notion  of  pure  sub- 
stance, for  it  is  a  thing  delightfully  devoid 
of  any  attributes  whatever. 

We  may,  perhaps,  not  be  aware  of  the 
existence  of  such  an  elaborate  set  of  encas- 
ings  to  our  own  heart  of  hearts,  nor  of  a 
something  so  very  indefinite  within,  but  the 
most  casual  glance  at  any  religion  will  re- 


180        THE  SOUL    OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

veal  its  truth  as  regards  the  soul  of  a  belief. 
We  recognize  the  fact  outwardly  in  the 
buildings  erected  to  celebrate  its  worship. 
Not  among  the  Jews  alone  was  the  holy  of 
holies  kept  veiled,  to  temper  the  divine  ra- 
diance to  man's  benighted  understanding. 
Nor  is  the  chancel-rail  of  Christianity  the 
sole  survivor  of  the  more  exclusive  barriers 
of  olden  times,  even  in  the  Western  world. 
In  the  Far  East,  where  difficulty  of  access 
is  deemed  indispensable  to  dignity,  the  ma- 
terial approaches  are  still  manifold  and  im- 
posing. Court  within  court,  building  after 
building,  isolate  the  shrine  itself  from  the 
profane  familiarity  of  the  passers-by.  But 
though  the  material  encasings  vary  in  num- 
ber and  in  exclusiveness,  according  to  the 
temperament  of  the  particular  race  con- 
cerned, the  mental  envelopes  exist,  and 
must  exist,  in  both  hemispheres  alike,  so 
long  as  society  resembles  the  crust  of  the 
earth  on  which  it  dwells,  —  a  crust  com- 
posed of  strata  that  grow  denser  as  one 
descends.  What  is  clear  to  those  on  top 
seems  obscure  to  those  below;  what  are 
weighty  arguments  to  the  second  have  no 
force  at  all  upon  the  first.  There  must  ne- 
cessarily be  grades  of  elevation  in  individual 


RELIGION.  181 

beliefs,  suited  to  the  needs  and  cravings 
of  each  individual  soul.  A  creed  that  fills 
the  shallow  with  satisfaction  leaves  but  an 
aching  void  in  the  deep.  It  is  not  of  the 
slightest  consequence  how  the  belief  starts  ; 
differentiated  it  is  bound  to  become.  The 
higher  minds  alone  can  rest  content  with 
abstract  imaginings ;  the  lower  must  have 
concrete  realities  on  which  to  pin  their 
faith.  With  them,  inevitably,  ideals  de- 
generate into  idols.  In  all  religions  this 
unavoidable  debasement  has  taken  place. 
The  Roman  Catholic  who  prays  to  a 
wooden  image  of  Christ  is  not  one  whit 
less  idolatrous  than  the  Buddhist  who  wor- 
ships a  bronze  statue  of  Amida  Butzu. 
All  that  the  common  people  are  capable 
of  seeing  is  the  soul-envelope,  for  the  soul 
itself  they  are  unable  to  appreciate.  Spir- 
itually they  are  undiscerning,  because  im- 
aginatively they  are  blind. 

Now  the  grosser  soul-envelopes  of  the 
two  great  European  and  Asiatic  faiths, 
though  differing  in  detail,  are  in  general 
parallel  in  structure.  Each  boasts  its  full 
complement  of  saints,  whose  congruent  cat- 
alogues are  equally  wearisome  in  length. 
Each  tells  its  circle  of  beads  to  help  it 


182   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

keep  count  of  similarly  endless  prayers. 
For  in  both,  in  the  popular  estimation, 
quantity  is  more  effective  to  salvation  than 
quality.  In  both  the  believer  practically 
pictures  his  heaven  for  himself,  while  in 
each  his  hell,  with  a  vividness  that  does 
like  credit  to  its  religious  imagination,  is 
painted  for  him  by  those  of  the  cult  who 
are  themselves  confident  of  escaping  it. 
Into  the  lap  of  each  mother  church  the 
pious  believer  drops  his  little  votive  offer- 
ing with  the  same  affectionate  zeal,  and  in 
Asia,  as  in  Europe,  the  mites  of  the  many 
make  the  might  of  the  mass. 

But  behind  all  this  is  the  religion  of  the 
few, —  of  those  to  whom  sensuous  forms  can- 
not suffice  to  represent  super-sensuous  crav- 
ings ;  whose  god  is  something  more  than 
an  anthropomorphic  creation  ;  to  whom 
worship  means  not  the  cramping  of  the 
body,  but  the  expansion  of  the  soul. 

The  rays  of  the  truth,  like  the  rays  of 
the  sun,  which  universally  seems  to  have 
been  man's  first  adoration,  have  two  prop- 
erties equally  inherent  in  their  essence, 
warmth  and  light.  And  as  for  the  life  of 
all  things  on  this  globe  both  attributes  of 
sunshine  are  necessary,  so  to  the  develop- 


RELIGION.  183 

merit  of  that  something  which  constitutes 
the  ego  both  qualities  of  the  truth  are  vital. 
We  sometimes  speak  of  character  as  if  it 
were  a  thing  wholly  apart  from  mind ;  but, 
in  fact,  the  two  things  are  so  interwoven 
that  to  perceive  the  right  course  is  the 
strongest  possible  of  incentives  to  pursue  it. 
In  the  end  the  two  are  one.  Now,  while 
clearness  of  head  is  all-important,  kindness 
of  heart  is  none  the  less  so.  The  first,  per- 
haps, is  more  needed  in  our  communinga 
with  ourselves,  the  second  in  our  commerce 
with  others.  For,  dark  and  dense  bodies 
that  we  are,  we  can  radiate  affection  much 
more  effectively  than  we  can  reflect  views. 

That  Christianity  is  a  religion  of  love 
needs  no  mention  ;  that  Buddhism  is 
equally  such  is  perhaps  not  so  generally 
appreciated.  But  just  as  the  gospel  of  the 
disciple  who  loved  and  was  loved  the  most 
begins  its  story  by  telling  us  of  the  Light 
that  came  into  the  world,  so  none  the  less 
surely  could  the  Light  of  Asia  but  be  also 
its  warmth.  Half  of  the  teachings  of  Bud- 
dhism are  spent  in  inculcating  charity.  Not 
only  to  men  is  man  enjoined  to  show  kind- 
liness, but  to  all  other  animals  as  well. 
The  people  practise  what  their  scriptures 


184   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

preach.  The  effect  indirectly  on  the  con- 
dition of  the  brutes  is  almost  as  marked  as 
its  more  direct  effect  on  the  character  of 
mankind.  In  heart,  at  least,  Buddhism 
and  Christianity  are  very  close. 

But  here  the  two  paths  to  a  something 
beyond  an  earthly  life  diverge.  Up  to  this 
point  the  two  religions  are  alike,  but  from 
this  point  on  they  are  so  utterly  unlike  that 
the  very  similarity  of  all  that  went  before 
only  suffices  to  make  of  the  second  the 
weird,  life  -  counterfeiting  shadow  of  the 
first.  As  in  a  silhouette,  externally  the 
contours  are  all  there,  but  within  is  one 
vast  blank.  In  relation  to  one's  neighbor 
the  two  beliefs  are  kin,  but  as  regards  one's 
self,  as  far  apart  as  the  West  is  from  the 
East.  For  here,  at  this  idea  of  self,  we  are 
suddenly  aware  of  standing  on  the  brink 
of  a  fathomless  abyss,  gazing  giddily  down 
into  that  great  gulf  which  divides  Bud- 
dhism from  Christianity.  We  cannot  see 
the  bottom.  It  is  a  separation  more  pro- 
found than  death ;  it  seems  to  necessitate 
annihilation.  To  cross  it  we  must  bury  in 
its  depths  all  we  know  as  ourselves. 

Christianity  is  a  personal  religion ;  Bud- 
dhism, an  impersonal  one.  In  this  funda- 


RELIGION.  185 

mental  difference  lies  the  world- wide  oppo- 
sition of  the  two  beliefs.  Christianity  tells 
us  to  purify  ourselves  that  we  may  enjoy 
countless  aeons  of  that  bettered  self  here- 
after ;  Buddhism  would  have  us  purify  our- 
selves that  we  may  lose  all  sense  of  self  for 
evermore. 

For  all  that  it  preaches  the  essential  vile- 
ness  of  the  natural  man,  Christianity  is  a 
gospel  of  optimism.  While  it  affirms  that 
at  present  you  are  bad,  it  also  affirms  that 
this  depravity  is  no  intrinsic  part  of  your- 
self. It  unquestioningly  asserts  that  it  is 
something  foreign  to  your  true  being.  It 
even  believes  that  in  a  more  or  less  spiritual 
manner  your  very  body  will  survive.  It 
essentially  clings  to  the  ego.  What  it  incul- 
cates is  really  present  endeavor  sanctioned 
by  the  prospect  of  future  bliss.  It  tacitly 
takes  for  granted  the  desirability  of  per- 
sonal existence,  and  promises  the  certainty 
of  personal  immortality,  —  a  terror  to  evil- 
doers, and  a  sustaining  sense  of  coming  un- 
alloyed happiness  to  the  good.  Through 
and  through  its  teachings  runs  the  feeling 
of  the  fullness  of  life,  that  desire  which 
will  not  die,  that  wish  of  the  soul  which 
beats  its  wings  against  its  earthly  casement 


186         THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

in  its  longing  for  expansion  beyond  the 
narrow  confines  of  threescore  years  and 
ten. 

Buddhism,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  cri  du 
cceur  of  pessimism.  This  life,  it  says,  is 
but  a  chain  of  sorrows.  To  multiply  days 
is  only  to  multiply  evil.  These  desires  that 
urge  us  on  are  really  cause  of  all  our  woe. 
We  think  they  are  ourselves.  We  are  mis- 
taken. They  are  all  illusion,  and  we  are 
victims  of  a  mirage.  This  personality,  this 
sense  of  self,  is  a  cruel  deception  and  a 
snare.  Realize  once  the  true  soul  behind 
it,  devoid  of  attributes,  therefore  without 
this  capacity  for  suffering,  an  indivisible 
part  of  the  great  impersonal  soul  of  nature : 
then,  and  then  only,  will  you  have  found 
happiness  in  the  blissful  quiescence  of  Nir- 
vana. 

With  a  certain  poetic  fitness,  misery  and 
impersonality  were  both  present  in  the  oc- 
casion that  gave  the  belief  birth.  Many 
have  turned  to  the  consolations  of  religion 
by  reason  of  their  own  wretchedness  ; 
Gautama  sought  its  help  touched  by  the 
woes  of  others  whom,  in  his  own  happy 
life  journey,  he  chanced  one  day  to  come 
across.  Shocked  by  the  sight  of  human 


RELIGION.  187 

disease,  old  age,  and  death,  sad  facts  to 
which  hitherto  he  had  been  sedulously  kept 
a  stranger,  he  renounced  the  world  that  he 
might  find  for  it  an  escape  from  its  ills. 
But   bliss,  as  he   conceived   it,  lay  not  in 
wanting  to  be  something  he  was  not,  but  in 
actual  want  of  being.     His  quest  for  man- 
kind was  immunity  from  suffering,  not  the 
active  enjoyment  of  life.     In  this  negative 
way  of  looking  at  happiness,  he  acted  in 
strict    conformity   with    the   spirit   of    his 
world.     For  the  doctrine  of  pessimism  had 
already   been   preached.     It  underlay  the 
whole  Brahman  philosophy,  and  everybody 
believed   it   implicitly.     Already  the  East 
looked  at  this  life  as  an  evil,  and  had  af- 
firmed for  the  individual  spirit  extinction 
to  be  happier  than  existence.     The  wish 
for  an  end  to  the  ego,  the  hope  to  be  event- 
ually nothing,  Gautama  accepted  for  a  tru- 
ism  as   undeniably  as  the   Brahmans  did. 
What  he  pronounced  false  was  the  Brah- 
man prospectus  of  the  way  to  reach  this 
desirable  impersonal  state.     Their  road,  he 
said,  could  not  possibly  land  the  traveller 
where  it   professed,  since  it  began  wrong, 
and  ended  nowhere.    The  way,  he  asserted, 
is  within  a  man.     He  has  but  to  realize  the 


188        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

truth,  and  from  that  moment  he  will  see 
his  goal  and  the  road  that  leads  there. 
There  is  no  panacea  for  human  ills,  of  ex- 
ternal application.  The  Brahman  homos- 
opathic  treatment  of  sin  is  folly.  The 
slaughtering  of  men  and  bulls  cannot  pos- 
sibly bring  life  to  the  soul.  To  mortify  the 
body  for  the  sins  of  the  flesh  is  palpably 
futile,  for  in  desire  alone  lies  all  the  ill. 
Quench  the  desire,  and  the  deeds  will  die 
of  inanition.  Man  himself  is  sole  cause  of 
his  own  misery.  Get  rid,  then,  said  the 
Buddha,  of  these  passions,  these  strivings 
for  the  sake  of  self,  that  hold  the  true  soul 
a  prisoner.  They  have  to  do  with  things 
which  we  know  are  transitory :  how  can 
they  be  immortal  themselves?  We  recog- 
nize them  as  subject  to  our  will ;  they  are, 
then,  not  the  I. 

As  a  man,  he  taught,  becomes  conscious 
that  he  himself  is  something  distinct  from 
his  body,  so,  if  he  reflect  and  ponder,  he 
will  come  to  see  that  in  like  manner  his 
appetites,  ambitions,  hopes,  are  really  ex- 
trinsic to  the  spirit  proper.  Neither  heart 
nor  head  is  truly  the  man,  for  he  is  con- 
scious of  something  that  stands  behind 
both.  Behind  desire,  behind  even  the  will, 


RELIGION.  189 

lies  the  soul,  the  same  for  all  men,  one 
with  the  soul  of  the  universe.  When  he 
has  once  realized  this  eternal  truth,  the 
man  has  entered  Nirvana.  For  Nirvana  is 
not  an  absorption  of  the  individual  soul 
into  the  soul  of  all  things,  since  the  one 
has  always  been  a  part  of  the  other.  Still 
less  is  it  utter  annihilation.  It  is  simply 
the  recognition  of  the  eternal  oneness  of 
the  two,  back  through  an  everlasting  past 
on  through  an  everlasting  future. 

Such  is  the  belief  which  the  Japanese 
adopted,  and  which  they  profess  to-day. 
Such  to  them  is  to  be  the  dawn  of  death's 
to-morrow ;  a  blessed  impersonal  immortal- 
ity, in  which  all  sense  of  self,  illusion  that 
it  is,  shall  itself  have  ceased  to  be ;  a  long 
dreamless  sleep,  a  beatified  rest,  which  no 
awakening  shall  ever  disturb. 

Among  such  a  people  personal  Christian- 
ity converts  but  few.  They  accept  our 
material  civilization,  but  they  reject  our 
creeds.  To  preach  a  prolongation  of  life 
appears  to  them  like  preaching  an  exten- 
sion of  sorrow.  At  most,  Christianity  suc- 
ceeds only  in  making  them  doubters  of  what 
lies  beyond  this  life.  But  though  profess- 
ing agnosticism  while  they  live,  they  turn, 


190    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

when  the  shadows  of  death's  night  come 
on,  to  the  bosom  of  that  faith  which  teaches 
that,  whatever  may  have  been  one's  earthly 
share  of  happiness,  "  't  is  something  better 
not  to  be." 

Strange  it  seems  at  first  that  those  who 
have  looked  so  long  to  the  rising  sun  for 
inspiration  should  be  they  who  live  only  in 
a  sort  of  lethargy  of  life,  while  those  who 
for  so  many  centuries  have  turned  their 
faces  steadily  to  the  fading  glory  of  the 
sunset  should  be  the  ones  who  have  em- 
bodied the  spirit  of  progress  of  the  world. 
Perhaps  the  light,  by  its  very  rising,  checks 
the  desire  to  pursue ;  in  its  setting  it  lures 
one  on  to  follow. 

Though  this  religion  of  impersonality  is 
not  their  child,  it  is  their  choice.  They 
embraced  it  with  the  rest  that  India  taught 
them,  centuries  ago.  But  though  just  as 
eager  to  learn  of  us  now  as  of  India  then, 
Christianity  fails  to  commend  itself.  This 
is  not  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Buddhist 
missionaries  came  by  invitation,  and  ours 
do  not.  Nor  is  it  due  to  any  want  of  per- 
sonal character  in  these  latter,  but  simply 
to  an  excess  of  it  in  their  doctrines. 

For  to-day  the  Far  East  is  even  more  im- 


RELIGION. 


personal  in  its  religion  than  are  those  from 
whom  that  religion  originally  came.  India 
has  returned  again  to  its  worship  of  Brah- 
ma, which,  though  impersonal  enough,  is 
less  so  than  is  the  gospel  of  Gautama.  For 
it  is  passively  instead  of  actively  imper- 
sonal. 

Buddhism   bears  to   Brahmanisra   some- 
thing like  the  relation  that  Protestantism 
does  to  Roman  Catholicism.     Both  bishops 
and  Brahmans  undertake  to  save  all  who 
shall  blindly  commit  themselves  to  profes- 
sional guidance,  while  Buddhists  and  Prot- 
estants alike  believe  that  a  man's  salvation 
must  be  brought  about  by  the  action  of  the 
man  himself.     The  result  is,  that  in  the 
matter  of   individuality  the  two  reformed 
beliefs  are  further  apart  than  those  against 
which   they  severally   protested.      For  by 
the  change  the  personal  became  more  per- 
sonal, and  the  impersonal  more  impersonal 
than  before.     The  Protestant,  from  having 
tamely  allowed   himself  to  be  led,  began 
to   take  a  lively  interest  in  his  own   self- 
improvement;  while  the  Buddhist,  from  a 
former  apathetic  acquiescence   in  the  doc- 
trine of  the  universally  illusive,  set  to  work 
energetically  towards  self-extinction.     Curi- 


192         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ous  labor  for  a  mind,  that  of  devoting  all 
its  strength  to  the  thinking  itself  out  of 
existence  !  Not  content  with  being  born 
impersonal,  a  Far  Oriental  is  constantly 
striving  to  make  himself  more  so. 

We  have  seen,  then,  how  in  trying  to 
understand  these  peoples  we  are  brought 
face  to  face  with  impersonality  in  each  of 
those  three  expressions  of  the  human  soul, 
speech,  thought,  yearning.  We  have  looked 
at  them  first  from  a  social  standpoint.  We 
have  seen  how  singularly  little  regard  is 
paid  the  individual  from  his  birth  to  his 
death.  How  he  lives  his  life  long  the  slave 
of  patriarchal  customs  of  so  puerile  a  ten- 
dency as  to  be  practically  impossible  to  a 
people  really  grown  up.  How  he  practises 
a  wholesale  system  of  adoption  sufficient  of 
itself  to  destroy  any  surviving  regard  for 
the  ego  his  other  relations  might  have  left. 
How  in  his  daily  life  he  gives  the  mini- 
mum of  thought  to  the  bettering  himself  in 
any  worldly  sense,  and  the  maximum  of 
polite  consideration  to  his  neighbor.  How, 
in  short,  he  acts  toward  himself  as  much  as 
possible  as  if  he  were  another,  and  to  that 
other  as  if  he  were  himself. 

Then,  not  content  with  standing  stranger- 


RELIGION.  193 

like  upon  the  threshold,  we  have  sought 
to  see  the  soul  of  their  civilization  in  its 
intrinsic  manifestations.  We  have  pushed 
our  inquiry,  as  it  were,  one  step  nearer  its 
home.  And  the  same  trait  that  was  appar- 
ent sociologically  has  been  exposed  in  this 
our  antipodal  phase  of  psychical  research. 
We  have  seen  how  impersonal  is  his  lan- 
guage, the  principal  medium  of  communica- 
tion between  one  soul  and  another;  how 
impersonal  are  the  communings  of  his  soul 
with  itself.  How  the  man  turns  to  nature 
instead  of  to  his  fellowman  in  silent  sym- 
pathy. And  how,  when  he  speculates  upon 
his  coming  castles  in  the  air,  his  most  rose- 
ate desire  is  to  be  but  an  indistinguishable 
particle  of  the  sunset  clouds  and  vanish  in- 
visible as  they  into  the  starry  stillness  of 
all-embracing  space. 

Now  what  does  this  strange  impersonal- 
ity betoken?  Why  are  these  peoples  so 
different  from  us  in  this  most  fundamental 
of  considerations  to  any  people,  the  consid- 
eration of  themselves?  The  answer  leads 
to  some  interesting  conclusions. 


VIII. 

IMAGINATION. 

IF,  as  is  the  case  with  the  moon,  the 
earth,  as  she  travelled  round  her  orbit 
turned  always  the  same  face  inward,  we 
might  expect  to  find,  between  the  thoughts 
of  that  hemisphere  which  looked  continu- 
ally to  the  sun,  and  those  of  the  other 
peering  eternally  out  at  the  stars,  some 
such  difference  as  actually  exists  between 
ourselves  and  our  longitudinal  antipodes. 
For  our  conception  of  the  cosmos  is  of  a 
sunlit  world  throbbing  with  life,  while  their 
Nirvana  finds  not  unfit  expression  in  the 
still,  cold,  fathomless  awe  of  the  midnight 
sky.  That  we  cannot  thus  directly  account 
for  the  difference  in  local  coloring  serves 
but  to  make  that  difference  of  more  human 
interest.  The  dissimilarity  between  the 
Western  and  the  Far  Eastern  attitude  of 
mind  has  in  it  something  beyond  the  effect 
of  environment.  For  it  points  to  the  im- 
portance of  the  part  which  the  principle 


IMAGINATION.  195 

of  individuality  plays  in  the  great  drama 
daily  enacting  before  our  eyes,  and  which 
we  know  as  evolution.  It  shows,  as  I  shall 
hope  to  prove,  that  individuality  bears  the 
same  relation  to  the  development  of  mind 
that  the  differentiation  of  species  does  to 
the  evolution  of  organic  life :  that  the  degree 
of  individualization  of  a  people  is  the  self- 
recorded  measure  of  its  place  in  the  great 
march  of  mind. 

All  life,  whether  organic  or  inorganic, 
consists,  as  we  know,  in  a  change  from  a 
state  of  simple  homogeneity  to  one  of  com- 
plex heterogeneity.  The  process  is  appar- 
ently the  same  in  a  nebula  or  a  brachiopod, 
although  much  more  intricate  in  the  lat- 
ter. The  immediate  force  which  works 
this  change,  the  life  principle  of  things,  is, 
in  the  case  of  organic  beings,  a  subtle  some- 
thing which  we  call  spontaneous  variation. 
What  this  mysterious  impulse  may  be  is 
beyond  our  present  powers  of  recognition. 
As  yet,  the  ultimates  of  all  things  lie  hid- 
den in  the  womb  of  the  vast  unknown. 
But  just  as  in  the  case  of  a  man  we  can 
tell  what  organs  are  vital,  though  we  are 
ignorant  what  the  vital  spark  may  be,  so 
in  our  great  cosmical  laws  we  can  say  in 


196    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

what  their  power  resides,  though  we  know 
not  really  what  they  are.  Whether  mind 
be  but  a  sublimated  form  of  matter,  or,  what 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,  matter  a  menial 
kind  of  mind,  or  whether,  which  seems  less 
likely,  it  be  a  something  incomparable  with 
substance,  of  one  thing  we  are  sure,  the 
same  laws  of  heredity  govern  both.  In 
each  a  like  chain  of  continuity  leads  from 
the  present  to  the  dim  past,  a  connecting 
clue  which  we  can  follow  backward  in  im- 
agination. Now  what  spontaneous  varia- 
tion is  to  the  material  organism,  imagina- 
tion, apparently,  is  to  the  mental  one.  Just 
as  spontaneous  variation  is  constantly  push- 
ing the  animal  or  the  plant  to  push  out,  as 
a  vine  its  tendrils,  in  all  directions,  while 
natural  conditions  are  as  constantly  ex- 
ercising over  it  a  sort  of  unconscious  prun- 
ing power,  so  imagination  is  ever  at  work 
urging  man's  mind  out  and  on,  while  the 
sentiment  of  the  community,  commonly 
called  common  sense,  which  simply  means 
the  point  already  reached  by  the  average, 
is  as  steadily  tending  to  keep  it  at  its  own 
level.  The  environment  helps,  in  the  one 
case  as  in  the  other,  to  the  shaping  of  the 
development.  Purely  physical  in  the  first, 


IMAGINATION.  197 

it  is  both  physical  and  psychical  in  the 
second,  the  two  reacting  on  each  other. 
But  in  either  case  it  is  only  a  constraining 
condition,  not  the  divine  impulse  itself. 
Precisely,  then,  as  in  the  organism,  this  sub- 
tle spirit  checked  in  one  direction  finds  a 
way  to  advance  in  another,  and  produces  in 
consequence  among  an  originally  similar  set 
of  bodies  a  gradual  separation  into  species 
which  grow  wider  with  time,  so  in  brain 
evolution  a  like  force  for  like  reasons  tends 
inevitably  to  an  ever-increasing  individual- 
ization. 

Now  what  evidence  have  we  that  this 
analogy  holds  ?  Let  us  look  at  the  facts, 
first  as  they  present  themselves  subjec- 
tively. 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation,  that 
guardian  angel  so  persistent  to  appear 
when  needed,  owes  its  summons  to  an- 
other instinct  no  less  strong,  which  we 
may  call  the  instinct  of  individuality;  for 
with  the  same  innate  tenacity  with  which 
we  severally  cling  to  life  do  we  hold  to  the 
idea  of  our  own  identity.  It  is  not  for 
the  philosophic  desire  of  preserving  a  very 
small  fraction  of  humanity  at  large  that  we 
take  such  pains  to  avoid  destruction ;  it  is 


198    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

that  we  insensibly  regard  death  as  threat- 
ening to  the  continuance  of  the  ego,  in  spite 
of  the  theories  of  a  future  life  which  we 
have  so  elaborately  developed.  Indeed,  the 
psychical  shrinking  is  really  the  quintes- 
sence of  the  physical  fear.  We  cleave  to 
the  abstract  idea  closer  even  than  to  its 
concrete  embodiment.  Sooner  would  we 
forego  this  earthly  existence  than  sur- 
render that  something  we  know  as  self. 
For  sufficient  cause  we  can  imagine  court- 
ing death ;  we  cannot  conceive  of  so  much 
as  exchanging  our  individuality  for  an- 
other's, still  less  of  abandoning  it  alto- 
gether ;  for  gradually  a  man,  as  he  grows 
older,  comes  to  regard  his  body  as,  after 
all,  separable  from  himself.  It  is  the  soul's 
covering,  rendered  indispensable  by  the  cli- 
matic conditions  of  our  present  existence, 
one  without  which  we  could  no  longer  con- 
tinue to  live  here.  To  forego  it  does  not 
necessarily  negative,  so  far  as  we  yet  know, 
the  possibility  of  living  elsewhere.  Some 
more  congenial  tropic  may  be  the  wander- 
ing spirit's  fate.  But  to  part  with  the  sense 
of  self  seems  to  be  like  taking  an  eternal 
farewell  of  the  soul.  The  Western  mind 
shrinks  before  the  bare  idea  of  such  a 
thought. 


IMAGINATION.  199 

The  clinging  to  one's  own  identity,  then, 
is  now  an  instinct,  whatever  it  may  origi- 
nally have  been.     It  is  a  something  we  in- 
herited from  our  ancestors  and  which  we 
shall  transmit  more  or  less  modified  to  our 
descendants.     How  far  back  this  conscious- 
ness has  been  felt  passes  the  possibilities  of 
history  to  determine,  since  the  recording  of 
it  necessarily  followed   the    fact.     All  we 
know  is  that  its   mention   is  coeval  with 
chronicle,   and  its  origin  lost  in  allegory. 
The  Bible,  one  of  the  oldest  written  rec- 
ords  in  the  world,  begins  with  a  bit   of 
mythology    of    a    very    significant     kind. 
When  the  Jews  undertook  to  trace   back 
their  family  tree  to  an  idyllic  garden  of 
Eden,  they  mentioned  as  growing  there  be- 
side the  tree  of  life,  another  tree  called  the 
tree  of  knowledge.     Of  what  character  this 
knowledge  was  is  inferable  from  the  sud- 
den  self  -  consciousness   that   followed   the 
partaking  of  it.     So  that  if  we  please  we 
may  attribute   directly  to   Eve's   indiscre- 
tion the  many  evils  of  our  morbid  self-con- 
sciousness of  the  present  day.     But  with- 
out indulging  in  unchivalrous  recrimination 
we  may  draw   certain   morals   from  it  of 
both  immediate  and  ultimate  applicability. 


200        THE  SOUL  OF  THE   FAR  EAST. 

To  begin  with,  it  is  a  most  salutary  warn- 
ing to  the  introspective,  and  in  the  second 
place  it  is  a  striking  instance  of  a  myth 
which  is  not  a  sun  myth ;  for  it  is  essen- 
tially of  human  regard,  an  attempt  on 
man's  part  to  explain  that  most  peculiar 
attribute  of  his  constitution,  the  all-possess- 
ing sense  of  self.  It  looks  certainly  as  if 
he  was  not  over-proud  of  his  person  that 
he  should  have  deemed  its  recognition  occa- 
sion for  the  primal  curse,  and  among  early 
races  the  person  is  for  a  good  deal  of  the 
personality.  What  he  lamented  was  not 
life  but  the  unavoidable  exertion  necessary 
to  getting  his  daily  bread,  for  the  question 
whether  life  were  worth  while  was  as  futile 
then  as  now,  and  as  inconceivable  really  as 
4-dimensional  space. 

We  are  then  conscious  of  individuality 
as  a  force  within  ourselves.  But  our  knowl- 
edge by  no  means  ends  there  ;  for  we  are 
aware  of  it  in  the  case  of  others  as  well. 

About  certain  people  there  exists  a  sub- 
tle something  which  leaves  its  impress  in- 
delibly upon  the  consciousness  of  all  who 
come  in  contact  with  them.  This  some- 
thing is  a  power,  but  a  power  of  so  inde- 
finable a  description  that  we  beg  definition 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  201 

by  calling  it  simply  the  personality  of  the 
man.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  subsequent 
reasoning,  but  of  direct  perception.  We 
feel  it.  Sometimes  it  charms  us;  some- 
times it  repels.  But  we  can  no  more  be 
oblivious  to  it  than  we  can  to  the  temper- 
ature of  the  air.  Its  possessor  has  but  to 
enter  the  room,  and  insensibly  we  are  con- 
scious of  a  presence.  It  is  as  if  we  had 
suddenly  been  placed  in  the  field  of  a  mag- 
netic force. 

On  the  other  hand  there  are  people  who 
produce  no  effect  upon  us  whatever.  They 
come  and  go  with  a  like  indifference.  They 
are  as  unimportant  psychically  as  if  they 
were  any  other  portion  of  the  furniture. 
They  never  stir  us.  We  might  live  with 
them  for  fifty  years  and  be  hardly  able 
to  tell,  for  any  influence  upon  ourselves, 
whether  they  existed  or  not.  They  remind 
us  of  that  neutral  drab  which  certain  re- 
ligious sects  assume  to  show  their  own  ir- 
relevancy to  the  world.  They  are  often 
most  estimable  folk,  but  they  are  no  more 
capable  of  inspiring  a  strong  emotion  than 
the  other  kind  are  incapable  of  doing  so. 
And  we  say  the  difference  is  due  to  the 
personality  or  want  of  personality  of  the 


202    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

man.  Now,  in  what  does  this  so-called  per- 
sonality consist?  Not  in  bodily  presence 
simply,  for  men  quite  destitute  of  it  pos- 
sess the  force  in  question  ;  not  in  character 
only,  for  we  often  disapprove  of  a  character 
whose  attraction  we  are  powerless  to  resist ; 
not  in  intellect  alone,  for  men  more  rational 
fail  of  stirring  us  as  these  unconsciously  do. 
In  what,  then  ?  In  life  itself ;  not  that 
modicum  of  it,  indeed,  which  suffices  sim- 
ply to  keep  the  machine  moving,  but  in 
the  life  principle,  the  power  which  causes 
psychical  change ;  which  makes  the  indi- 
vidual something  distinct  from  all  other  in- 
dividuals, a  being  capable  of  proving  suffi- 
cient, if  need  be,  unto  himself ;  which  shows 
itself,  in  short,  as  individuality.  This  is 
not  a  mere  restatement  of  the  case,  for  indi- 
viduality is  an  objective  fact  capable  of  be- 
ing treated  by  physical  science.  And  as  we 
know  much  more  at  present  about  physical 
facts  than  we  do  of  psychological  problems, 
we  may  be  able  to  arrive  the  sooner  at 
solution. 

Individuality,  personality,  and  the  sense 
of  self  are  only  three  different  aspects  of 
one  and  the  same  thing.  They  are  so  many 
various  views  of  the  soul  according  as  we 


IMAGINATION.  203 

regard  it  from  an  intrinsic,  an  altruistic,  or 
an  egoistic  standpoint.     For  by  individual- 
ity is  not  meant  simply  the  isolation  in  a 
corporeal  casing  of  a  small  portion  of  the 
universal  soul  of  mankind.     So  far  as  mind 
goes,  this  would  not  be  individuality  at  all, 
but  the  reverse.     By  individuality  we  mean 
that   bundle  of   ideas,   thoughts,  and  day- 
dreams which  constitute  our  separate  iden- 
tity, and  by  virtue  of  which  we  feel  each 
one  of  us  at  home  within  himself.     Now 
man  in  his  mind-development  is  bound  to 
become  more  and  more  distinct  from  his 
neighbor.     "We  can  hardly  conceive  a  pro- 
gress so  uniform  as  not  to  necessitate  this. 
It  would  be  contrary  to  all  we  know  of 
natural  law,  besides  contradicting  daily  ex- 
perience.    For    each  successive  generation 
bears  unmistakable  testimony  to  the  fact. 
Children  of  the  same  parents  are  never  ex- 
actly like  either  their  parents  or  one  an- 
other, and  they  often  differ  amazingly  from 
both.      In    such    instances   they   revert   to 
type,  as  we  say;  but  inasmuch  as  the  race  ' 
is  steadily  advancing  in  development,  such 
reversion  must  resemble  that  of  an  estate 
which  has  been  greatly  improved  since  its 
previous    possession.      The    appearance  of 


204        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

the  quality  is  really  the  sprouting  of  a  seed 
whose  original  germ  was  in  some  sense 
coeval  with  the  beginning  of  things.  This 
mind-seed  takes  root  in  some  cases  and  not 
in  others,  according  to  the  soil  it  finds. 
And  as  certain  traits  develop  and  others  do 
not,  one  man  turns  out  very  differently 
from  his  neighbor.  Such  inevitable  dis- 
tinction implies  furthermore  that  the  man 
shall  be  sensible  of  it.  Consciousness  is 
the  necessary  attribute  of  mental  action. 
Not  only  is  it  the  sole  way  we  have  of 
knowing  mind ;  without  it  there  would  be 
no  mind  to  know.  Not  to  be  conscious  of 
one's  self  is,  mentally  speaking,  not  to  be. 
This  complex  entity,  this  little  cosmos  of  a 
world,  the  "  I,"  has  for  its  very  law  of  exist- 
ence self-consciousness,  while  personality  is 
the  effect  it  produces  upon  the  conscious- 
ness of  others. 

But  we  may  push  our  inquiry  a  step 
further,  and  find  in  imagination  the  cause 
of  this  strange  force.  For  imagination,  or 
the  image-making  faculty,  may  in  a  certain 
sense  be  said  to  be  the  creator  of  the  world 
within.  The  separate  senses  furnish  it  with 
material,  but  to  it  alone  is  due  the  building 
of  our  castles,  on  premises  of  fact  or  in  the 


IMAGINATION.  205 

air.  For  there  is  no  impassable  gulf  be- 
tween the  two.  Coleridge's  distinction  that 
imagination  drew  possible  pictures  and  fancy 
impossible  ones,  is  itself,  except  as  a  classi- 
fication, an  impossible  distinction  to  draw; 
for  it  is  only  the  inconceivable  that  can 
never  be.  All  else  is  purely  a  matter  of  re- 
lation. We  may  instance  dreams  which  are 
usually  considered  to  rank  among  the  most 
fanciful  creations  of  the  mind.  Who  has 
not  in  his  dreams  fallen  repeatedly  from 
giddy  heights  and  invariably  escaped  un- 
hurt ?  If  he  had  attempted  the  feat  in  his 
waking  moments  he  would  assuredly  have 
been  dashed  to  pieces  at  the  bottom.  And 
so  we  say  the  thing  is  impossible.  But  is 
it  ?  Only  under  the  relative  conditions  of 
his  mass  and  the  earth's.  If  the  world  he 
happens  to  inhabit  were  not  its  present  size, 
but  the  size  of  one  of  the  tinier  asteroids, 
no  such  disastrous  results  would  follow  a 
chance  misstep.  He  could  there  walk  off 
precipices  when  too  closely  pursued  by 
bears  —  if  I  remember  rightly  the  usual 
childish  cause  of  the  same  —  with  perfect 
impunity.  The  bear  could  do  likewise,  un- 
fortunately. 

We  should  have  arrived  at  our  conclu- 


206         THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

sion  even  quicker  had  we  decreased  the  size 
both  of  the  man  and  his  world.  He  would 
not  then  have  had  to  tumble  actually  so  far, 
and  would  therefore  have  arrived  yet  more 
gently  at  the  foot.  This  turns  out,  then, 
to  be  a  mere  question  of  size.  Decrease 
the  scale  of  the  picture,  and  the  impossible 
becomes  possible  at  once.  All  fancies  are 
not  so  easily  reducible  to  actual  facts  as  the 
one  we  have  taken,  but  all,  perhaps,  event- 
ually may  be  explicable  in  the  same  gen- 
eral way.  At  present  we  certainly  cannot 
affirm  that  anything  may  not  be  thus  ex- 
plained. For  the  actual  is  widening  its 
field  every  day.  Even  in  this  little  world 
of  our  own  we  are  daily  discovering  to  be 
fact  what  we  should  have  thought  fiction, 
like  the  sailor's  mother  the  tale  of  the  fly- 
ing fish.  Beyond  it  our  ken  is  widening 
still  more.  Gulliver's  travels  may  turn  out 
truer  than  we  think.  Could  we  traverse 
the  inter-planetary  ocean  of  ether,  we  might 
eventually  find  in  Jupiter  the  land  of  Lil- 
liput  or  in  Ceres  some  old-time  country  of 
the  Brobdignagians.  For  men  constituted 
muscularly  like  ourselves  would  have  to 
be  proportionately  small  in  the  big  planet 
and  big  in  the  small  one.  Still  stranger 


IMAGINATION.  207 

things  may  exist  around  other  suns.  In 
those  bright  particular  stars  —  which  the 
little  girl  thought  pinholes  in  the  dark 
canopy  of  the  sky  to  let  the  glory  beyond 
shine  through  —  we  are  finding  conditions 
of  existence  like  yet  unlike  those  we  already 
know.  To  our  groping  speculations  of  the 
night  they  almost  seem,  as  we  gaze  on  them 
in  their  twinkling,  to  be  winking  us  a  sort 
of  comprehension.  Conditions  may  exist 
there  under  which  our  wildest  fancies  may 
be  commonplace  facts.  There  may  be 
"  Some  Xanadu  where  Kublai  can 
A  stately  pleasure  dome  decree," 

and  carry  out  his  conceptions  to  his  own 
disillusionment,  perhaps.  For  if  the  em- 
bodiment of  a  fancy,  however  complete,  left 
nothing  further  to  be  wished,  imagination 
would  have  no  incentive  to  work.  Cole- 
ridge's distinction  does  very  well  to  sepa- 
rate, empirically,  certain  kinds  of  imagina- 
tive concepts  from  certain  others  ;  but  it  has 
no  real  foundation  in  fact.  Nor  presuma- 
bly did  he  mean  it  to  have.  But  it  serves, 
not  inaptly,  as  a  text  to  point  out  an  impor- 
tant scientific  truth,  namely,  that  there  are 
not  two  such  qualities  of  the  mind,  but  only 
one.  For  otherwise  we  might  have  sup- 


208   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

posed  the  fact  too  evident  to  need  mention. 
Imagination  is  the  single  source  of  the  new, 
the  one  mainspring  of  psychical  advance  ; 
reason,  like  a  balance-wheel,  only  keeping 
the  action  regular.  For  reason  is  but  the 
touchstone  of  experience,  our  own,  inher- 
ited, or  acquired  from  others.  It  compares 
what  we  imagine  with  what  we  know,  and 
gives  us  answer  in  terms  of  the  here  and 
the  now,  which  we  call  the  actual.  But 
the  actual  is  really  nothing  but  the  local. 
It  does  not  mark  the  limits  of  the  possible. 
That  imagination  has  been  the  moving 
spirit  of  the  psychical  world  is  evident, 
whatever  branch  of  human  thought  we  are 
pleased  to  examine.  We  are  in  the  habit, 
in  common  parlance,  of  making  a  distinc- 
tion between  the  search  after  truth  and  the 
search  after  beauty,  calling  the  one  science 
and  the  other  art.  Now  while  we  are  not 
slow  to  impute  imagination  to  art,  we  are 
by  no  means  so  ready  to  appreciate  its  con- 
nection with  science.  Yet  contrary,  per- 
haps, to  exogeric  ideas  on  the  subject,  it  is 
science  rather  than  art  that  demands  im- 
agination of  her  votaries.  Not  that  art 
may  not  involve  the  quality  to  a  high  de- 
gree, but  that  a  high  degree  of  art  is  quite 


IMAGINATION.  209 

compatible  with  a  very  small  amount  of 
imagination.  On  the  one  side  we  may  in- 
stance painting.  Now  painting  begins  its 
career  in  the  humble  capacity  of  copyist,  a 
pretty  poor  copyist  at  that.  At  first  so 
slight  was  its  skill  that  the  rudest  symbols 
sufficed.  "  This  is  a  man  "  was  convention- 
ally implied  by  a  few  scratches  bearing  a 
very  distant  relationship  to  the  real  thing. 
Gradually,  owing  to  human  vanity  and  a 
growing  taste,  pictures  improved.  Combi- 
nations were  tried,  a  bit  from  one  place 
with  a  piece  from  another ;  a  sort  of  mosaic 
requiring  but  a  slight  amount  of  imagina- 
tion. Not  that  imagination  of  a  higher  or- 
der has  not  been  called  into  play,  although 
even  now  pictures  are  often  happy  adap- 
tations rather  than  creations  proper.  Some 
masters  have  been  imaginative ;  others,  un- 
fortunately for  themselves  and  still  more  for 
the  public,  have  not.  For  that  the  art  may 
attain  a  high  degree  of  excellence  for  it- 
self and  much  distinction  for  its  professors, 
without  calling  in  the  aid  of  imagination, 
is  evident  enough  on  this  side  of  the  globe, 
without  travelling  to  the  other. 

Take,  on   the   other   hand,  a  branch   of 
science    which,    to    the    average    layman, 


210         THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

seems  peculiarly  unimaginative,  the  science 
of  mathematics.  Yet  at  the  risk  of  appear- 
ing to  cast  doubts  upon  the  validity  of  its 
conclusions,  it  might  be  called  the  most 
imaginative  product  of  human  thought ;  for 
it  is  simply  one  vast  imagination  based 
upon  a  few  so-called  axioms,  which  are 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  results  of 
experience.  It  is  none  the  less  imaginative 
because  its  discoveries  always  accord  subse- 
quently with  fact,  since  man  was  not  aware 
of  them  beforehand.  Nor  are  its  inevita- 
ble conclusions  inevitable  to  any  save  those 
possessed  of  the  mathematician's  prophetic 
sight.  Once  discovered,  it  requires  much 
less  imagination  to  understand  them.  With 
the  light  coming  from  in  front,  it  is  an  easy 
matter  to  see  what  lies  behind  one. 

So  with  other  fabrics  of  human  thought, 
imagination  has  been  spinning  and  weav- 
ing them  all.  From  the  most  concrete  of  in- 
ventions to  the  most  abstract  of  conceptions 
the  same  force  reveals  itself  upon  exami- 
nation ;  for  there  is  no  gulf  between  what 
we  call  practical  and  what  we  consider 
theoretical.  Everything  abstract  is  ulti- 
mately of  practical  use,  and  even  the  most 
immediately  utilitarian  has  an  abstract  prin- 


IMAGINATION.  211 

ciple  at  its  core.     We  are  too  prone  to  re- 
gard the  present  age  of  the  world  as  pre- 
eminently practical,  much  as  a  middle-aged 
man   laments   the  witching  fancies  of  his 
boyhood.     But,  and   there   is  more  in  the 
parallel  than  analogy,  if  the  man  be  truly 
imaginative  he  is  none  the  less  so  at  forty- 
five  than  he  was  at  twenty,  if  his  imagina- 
tion have  taken  on  a  more  critical  form; 
for  this  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury is  perhaps  the  most  imaginative  period 
the  world's  history  has  ever  known.    While 
with  one  hand  we  are  contriving  means  of 
transit   for  our   ideas,   and   even  our  very 
voices,  compared  to  which  Puck's  girdle  is 
anything  but  talismanic,  with  the  other  we 
are   stretching   out  to  grasp  the  action  of 
mind  on  mind,  pushing  our  way  into  the 
very  realm  of  mind  itself. 

History  tells  the  same  story  in  detail ;  for 
the  history  of  mankind,  imperfectly  as  we 
know  it,  discloses  the  fact  that  imagination, 
and  not  the  power  of  observation  nor  the 
kindred  capability  of  perception,  has  been 
the  cause  of  soul-evolntion. 

The  savage  is  but  little  of  an  imaginative 
being.  We  are  tempted,  at  times,  to  im- 
agine him  more  so  than  he  is,  for  his  fanci- 


212        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

ful  folk-lore.  The  proof  of  which  over- 
estimation  is  that  we  find  no  difficulty  in 
imagining  what  he  does,  and  even  of  im- 
agining what  he  probably  imagined,  and 
finding  our  suppositions  verified  by  discov- 
ery. Yet  his  powers  of  observation  may 
be  marvellously  developed.  The  North 
American  Indian  tracks  his  foe  through 
the  forest  by  signs  unrecognizable  to  a 
white  man,  and  he  reasons  most  astutely 
upon  them,  and  still  that  very  man  turns 
out  to  be  a  mere  child  when  put  before 
problems  a  trifle  out  of  his  beaten  path. 
And  all  because  his  forefathers  had  not  the 
power  to  imagine  something  beyond  what 
they  actually  saw.  The  very  essence  of 
the  force  of  imagination  lies  in  its  ability 
to  change  a  man's  habitat  for  him.  With- 
out it,  man  would  forever  have  remained, 
not  a  mollusk,  to  be  sure,  but  an  animal 
simply.  A  plant  cannot  change  its  place, 
an  animal  cannot  alter  its  conditions  of  ex- 
istence except  within  very  narrow  bounds ; 
man  is  free  in  the  sense  nothing  else  in  the 
world  is. 

What  is  true  of  individuals  has  been 
true  of  races.  The  most  imaginative  races 
have  proved  the  greatest  factors  in  the 
world's  advance. 


IMAGINATION.  213 

Now  after  this  look  at  our  own  side  of 
the  world,  let  us  turn  to  the  other ;  for  it 
is  this  very  psychological  fact  that  mental 
progression  implies  an  ever-increasing  in- 
dividualization,  and  that  imagination  is  the 
force  at  work  in  the  process  which  Far 
Eastern  civilization,  taken  in  connection 
with  our  own,  reveals.  In  doing  this,  it 
explains  incidentally  its  own  seeming  ano- 
malies, the  most  unaccountable  of  which, 
apparently,  is  its  existence. 

We  have  seen  how  impressively  imper- 
sonal the  Far  East  is.  Now  if  individuality 
be  the  natural  measure  of  the  height  of 
civilization  which  a  nation  has  reached, 
impersonality  should  betoken  a  relatively 
laggard  position  in  the  race.  We  ought, 
therefore,  to  find  among  these  people  cer- 
tain other  characteristics  corroborative  of  a 
less  advanced  state  of  development.  In  the 
first  place,  if  imagination  be  the  impulse 
of  which  increase  in  individuality  is  the  re- 
sulting motion,  that  quality  should  be  at  a 
minimum  there.  The  Far  Orientals  ought 
to  be  a  particularly  unimaginative  set  of 
people.  Such  is  precisely  what  they  are. 
Their  lack  of  imagination  is  a  well-recog- 
nized fact.  All  who  have  been  brought  in 


214        THE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

contact  with  them  have  observed  it,  mer- 
chants as  strikingly  as  students.  Indeed, 
the  slightest  intercourse  with  them  could 
not  fail  to  make  it  evident.  Their  matter- 
of-fact  way  of  looking  at  things  is  truly  dis- 
tressing, coming  as  it  does  from  so  artistic 
a  people.  One  notices  it  all  the  more  for 
the  shock.  To  get  a  prosaic  answer  from 
a  man  whose  appearance  and  surroundings 
betoken  better  things  is  not  calculated  to 
dull  that  answer's  effect.  Aston,  in  a 
pamphlet  on  the  Altaic  tongues,  cites  an 
instance  which  is  so  much  to  the  point  that 
I  venture  to  repeat  it  here.  He  was  a  true 
Chinaman,  he  says,  who,  when  his  English 
master  asked  him  what  he  thought  of 

"  That  orbed  maiden 
With  white  fires  laden 
Whom  mortals  call  the  moon," 

replied,  "  My  thinkee  all  same  lamp  pid- 
gin "  (pidgin  meaning  thing  in  the  mongrel 
speech,  Chinese  in  form  and  English  in  dic- 
tion, which  goes  by  the  name  of  pidgin 
English). 

Their  own  tongues  show  the  same  prosaic 
character,  picturesque  as  they  appear  to  us 
at  first  sight.  That  effect  is  due  simply  to 
the  novelty  to  us  of  their  expressions.  To 


IMAGINATION.  215 

talk  of  a  pass  as  an  "  up-down  "  has  a  re- 
freshing turn  to  our  unused  ear,  but  it  is 
a  much  more  descriptive  than  imaginative 
figure  of  speech.     Nor  is  the  phrase  "  the 
being  (so)  is  difficult,"  in  place  of  "  thank 
you,"  a  surprisingly  beautiful  bit  of  imag- 
ery, delightful  as  it  sounds  for  a  change. 
Our  own  tongue  has,  in  its  daily  vocabu- 
lary, far  more  suggestive  expressions,  only 
familiarity  has  rendered  us  callous  to  their 
use.     We  employ  at  every  instant  words 
which,  could  we  but  stop  to  think  of  them, 
•would  strike  us  as  poetic  in  the  ideas  they 
call  up.     As  has  been  well  said,  they  were 
once  happy  thoughts  of  some  bright  partic- 
ular genius  bequeathed  to  posterity  without 
so  much  as    an  accompanying   name,  and 
which  proved  so  popular  that  they  soon  be- 
came but  symbols  themselves. 

Their  languages  are  paralleled  by  their 
whole  life.  A  lack  of  any  fanciful  ideas  is 
one  of  the  most  salient  traits  of  all  Far 
Eastern  races,  if  indeed  a  sad  dearth  of  any- 
thing can  properly  be  spoken  of  as  salient. 
Indirectly  their  want  of  imagination  be- 
trays itself  in  their  e very-day  sayings  and 
doings,  and  more  directly  in  every  branch 
of  thought.  Originality  is  not  their  strong 


216        THE   SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

point.  Their  utter  ignorance  of  science 
shows  this,  and  paradoxical  as  it  may  seem, 
their  art,  in  spite  of  its  merit  and  its  uni- 
versality, does  the  same.  That  art  and  im- 
agination are  necessarily  bound  together  re- 
ceives no  very  forcible  confirmation  from  a 
land  where,  nationally  speaking,  at  any  rate, 
the  first  is  easily  first  and  the  last  easily  last, 
as  nations  go.  It  is  to  quite  another  quality 
that  their  artistic  excellence  must  be  as- 
cribed. That  the  Chinese  and  later  the  Ja- 
panese have  accomplished  results  at  which 
the  rest  of  the  world  will  yet  live  to  marvel, 
is  due  to  their  —  taste.  But  taste  or  deli- 
cacy of  perception  has  absolutely  nothing 
to  do  with  imagination.  That  certain  of 
the  senses  of  Far  Orientals  are  wonderfully 
keen,  as  also  those  parts  of  the  brain  that 
directly  respond  to  them,  is  beyond  ques- 
tion ;  but  such  sensitiveness  does  not  in  the 
least  involve  the  less  earth-tied  portions  of 
the  intellect.  A  peculiar  responsiveness  to 
natural  beauty,  a  sort  of  mental  agreement 
with  its  earthly  environment,  is  a  marked 
feature  of  the  Japanese  mind.  But  appre- 
ciation, however  intimate,  is  a  very  differ- 
ent thing  from  originality.  The  one  is 
commonly  the  handmaid  of  the  other,  but 


IMAGINATION.  217 

the  other  by  no  means  always  accompanies 
the  one. 

So  much  for  the  cause;  now  for  the 
effect  which  we  might  expect  to  find  if  our 
diagnosis  be  correct. 

If  the  evolving  force  be  less  active  in  one 
race  than  in  another,  three  relative  results 
should  follow.  In  the  first  place,  the  race 
in  question  will  at  any  given  moment  be 
less  advanced  than  its  fellow ;  secondly,  its 
rate  of  progress  will  be  less  rapid;  and 
lastly,  its  individual  members  will  all  be 
nearer  together,  just  as  a  stream,  in  falling 
from  a  cliff,  starts  one  compact  mass,  then 
gradually  increasing  in  speed,  divides  into 
drops,  which,  growing  finer  and  finer  and 
farther  and  farther  apart,  descend  at  last 
as  spray.  All  three  of  these  consequences 
are  visible  in  the  career  of  the  Far  Eastern 
peoples.  The  first  result  scarcely  needs  to 
be  proved  to  us,  who  are  only  too  ready  to 
believe  it  without  proof.  It  is,  neverthe- 
less, a  fact.  Viewed  unprejudicedly,  their 
civilization  is  not  so  advanced  a  one  as  our 
own.  Although  they  are  certainly  our  su- 
periors in  some  very  desirable  particulars, 
their  whole  scheme  is  distinctly  more  abo- 
riginal fundamentally.  It  is  more  finished, 


218        THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  does  not  go  so  far. 
Less  rude,  it  is  more  rudimentary.  In- 
deed, as  we  have  seen,  its  surface-perfec- 
tion really  shows  that  nature  has  given  less 
thought  to  its  substance.  One  may  say  of 
it  that  it  is  the  adult  form  of  a  lower  type 
of  mind-specification. 

The  second  effect  is  scarcely  less  patent. 
How  slow  their  progress  has  been,  if  for 
centuries  now  it  can  be  called  progress  at 
all,  is  world-known.  Chinese  conservatism 
has  passed  into  a  proverb.  The  pendulum 
of  pulsation  in  the  Middle  Kingdom  long 
since  came  to  a  stop  at  the  medial  point  of 
rest.  Centre  of  civilization,  as  they  call 
themselves,  one  would  imagine  that  their 
mind-machinery  had  got  caught  on  their 
own  dead  centre,  and  now  could  not  be 
made  to  move.  Life,  which  elsewhere  is  a 
condition  of  unstable  equilibrium,  there  is 
of  a  fatally  stable  kind.  For  the  China- 
man's disinclination  to  progress  is  some- 
thing more  than  vis  inertice  ;  it  has  become 
an  ardent  devotion  to  the  status  quo.  Jos- 
tled, he  at  once  settles  back  to  his  previous 
condition  again  ;  much  as  more  materially, 
after  a  lifetime  spent  in  California,  at  his 
death  his  body  is  punctiliously  embalmed 


IMAGINATION.  219 

and  sent  home  across  five  thousand  miles 
of  sea  for  burial.  With  the  Japanese  the 
condition  of  affairs  is  somewhat  different. 
Their  tendency  to  stand  still  is  of  a  purely 
passive  kind.  It  is  a  state  of  neutral  equi- 
librium, stationary  of  itself  but  perfectly 
responsive  to  an  impulse  from  without. 
Left  to  their  own  devices,  they  are  conser- 
vative enough,  but  they  instantly  copy  a 
more  advanced  civilization  the  moment  they 
get  a  chance.  This  proclivity  on  their  part 
is  not  out  of  keeping  with  our  theory.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  precisely  what  was  to 
have  been  expected;  for  we  see  the  very 
same  apparent  contradiction  in  characters 
we  are  thrown  with  every  day.  Imitation 
is  the  natural  substitute  for  originality. 
The  less  strong  a  man's  personality  the 
more  prone  is  he  to  adopt  the  ideas  of 
others,  on  the  same  principle  that  a  void 
more  easily  admits  a  foreign  body  than 
does  space  that  is  already  occupied  ;  or  as  a 
blank  piece  of  paper  takes  a  dye  more  bril- 
liantly for  not  being  already  tinted  itself. 
The  third  result,  the  remarkable  homo- 
geneity of  the  people,  is  not,  perhaps,  so 
universally  appreciated,  but  it  is  equally 
evident  on  inspection,  and  no  less  weighty 


220    THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

in  proof.  Indeed,  the  Far  Eastern  state  of 
things  is  a  kind  of  charade  on  the  word ; 
for  humanity  there  is  singularly  uniform. 
The  distance  between  the  extremes  of  mind- 
development  in  Japan  is  much  less  than  with 
us.  This  lack  of  divergence  exists  not  sim- 
ply in  certain  lines  of  thought,  but  in  all 
those  characteristics  by  which  man  is  parted 
from  the  brutes.  In  reasoning  power,  in 
artistic  sensibility,  in  delicacy  of  percep- 
tion, it  is  the  same  story.  If  this  were 
simply  the  impression  at  first  sight,  no  de- 
ductions could  be  drawn  from,  it,  for  an 
impression  of  racial  similarity  invariably 
marks  the  first  stage  of  acquaintance  of  one 
people  by  another.  Even  in  outward  ap- 
pearance it  is  so.  We  find  it  at  first  im- 
possible to  tell  the  Japanese  apart;  they 
find  it  equally  impossible  to  differentiate 
us.  But  the  present  resemblance  is  not  a 
matter  of  first  impressions.  The  fact  is 
patent  historically.  The  men  whom  Japan 
reveres  are  much  less  removed  from  the 
common  herd  than  is  the  case  in  any  West- 
ern land.  And  this  has  been  so  from  the 
earliest  times.  Shakspeares  and  Newtons 
have  never  existed  there.  Japanese  human- 
ity is  not  the  soil  to  grow  them.  The  com- 


IMAGINATION.  221 

parative  absence  of  genius  is  fully  paralleled 
by  the  want  of  its  opposite.  Not  only  are 
the  paths  of  preeminence  untrodden ;  the 
purlieus  of  brutish  ignorance  are  likewise 
unfrequented.  On  neither  side  of  the 
great  medial  line  is  the  departure  of  indi- 
viduals far  or  frequent.  All  men  there  are 
more  alike ;  —  so  much  alike,  indeed,  that 
the  place  would  seem  to  offer  a  sort  of  for- 
lorn hope  for  disappointed  socialists.  Al- 
though religious  missionaries  have  not  met 
with  any  marked  success  among  the  na- 
tives, this  less  deserving  class  of  enthusi- 
astic disseminators  of  an  all-possessing  be- 
lief might  do  well  to  attempt  it.  They 
would  find  there  a  very  virgin  field  of  a 
most  promisingly  dead  level.  It  is  true,  hu- 
man opposition  would  undoubtedly  prevent 
their  tilling  it,  but  Nature,  at  least,  would 
not  present  quite  such  constitutional  obsta- 
cles as  she  wisely  does  with  us. 

The  individual's  mind  is,  as  it  were,  an 
isolated  bit  of  the  race  mind.  The  same 
set  of  traits  will  be  found  in  each.  Mental 
characteristics  there  are  a  sort  of  common 
property,  of  which  a  certain  undifferenti- 
ated  portion  is  indiscriminately  allotted  to 
every  man  at  birth.  One  soul  resembles 


222    THE  SOUL  OF  TEE  FAR  EAST. 

another  so  much,  that  in  view  of  the  patri- 
archal system  under  which  they  all  exist, 
there  seems  to  the  stranger  a  peculiar  ap- 
propriateness in  so  strong  a  family  likeness 
of  mind.  An  idea  of  how  little  one  man's 
brain  differs  from  his  neighbor's  may  be 
gathered  from  the  fact,  that  while  a  com- 
mon coolie  in  Japan  spends  his  spare  time 
in  playing  a  chess  twice  as  complicated  as 
ours,  the  most  advanced  philosopher  is  still 
on  the  blissfully  ignorant  side  of  the  pons 
asinorum. 

We  find,  then,  that  in  all  three  points 
the  Far  East  fulfils  what  our  theory  de- 
manded. 

There  is  one  more  consideration  worthy 
of  notice.  We  said  that  the  environment 
had  not  been  the  deus  ex  materia  in  the 
matter;  but  that  the  soul  itself  possessed 
the  germ  of  its  own  evolution.  This  fact 
does  not,  however,  preclude  another,  that 
the  environment  has  helped  in  the  process. 
Change  of  scene  is  beneficial  to  others  be- 
sides invalids.  How  stimulating  to  growth 
a  different  habitat  can  prove,  when  at  all 
favorable,  is  perhaps  sufficiently  shown  in 
the  case  of  the  marguerite,  which,  as  an 
emigrant  called  white-weed,  has  usurped 


IMAGINATION.  223 

our  fields.  The  same  has  been  no  less  true 
of  peoples.  Now  these  Far  Eastern  peo- 
ples, in  comparison  with  our  own  fore- 
fathers, have  travelled  very  little.  A  race 
in  its  travels  gains  two  things :  first  it  ac- 
quires directly  a  great  deal  from  both  places 
and  peoples  that  it  meets,  and  secondly  it  is 
constantly  put  to  its  own  resources  in  its 
struggle  for  existence,  and  becomes  more 
personal  as  the  outcome  of  such  strife.  The 
changed  conditions,  the  hostile  forces  it  finds, 
necessitate  mental  ingenuity  to  adapt  them 
and  influence  it  unconsciously.  To  see  how 
potent  these  influences  prove  we  have  but 
to  look  at  the  two  great  branches  of  the 
Aryan  family,  the  one  that  for  so  long  now 
has  stayed  at  home,  and  the  one  that  went 
abroad.  Destitute  of  stimulus  from  with- 
out, the  Indo- Aryan  mind  turned  upon 
itself  and  consumed  in  dreamy  metaphysics 
the  imagination  which  has  made  its  cousins 
the  leaders  in  the  world's  progress  to-day. 
The  inevitable  numbness  of  monotony  crept 
over  the  stay-at-homes.  The  deadly  same- 
ness of  their  surroundings  produced  its  un- 
avoidable effect.  The  torpor  of  the  East, 
like  some  paralyzing  poison,  stole  into  their 
souls,  and  they  fell  into  a  drowsy  slumber 


224   THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

only  to  dream  in  the  land  they  had  for- 
merly wrested  from  its  possessors.  Their 
birthright  passed  with  their  cousins  into 
the  West. 

In  the  case  of  the  Altaic  races  which  we 
are  considering,  cause  and  effect  mutually 
strengthened  each  other.  That  they  did 
not  travel  more  is  due  primarily  to  a  lack 
of  enterprise  consequent  upon  a  lack  of  im- 
agination, and  then  their  want  of  travel  told 
upon  their  imagination.  They  were  also 
unfortunate  in  their  journeying.  Their  trav- 
els were  prematurely  brought  to  an  end  by 
that  vast  geographical  Nirvana  the  Pacific 
Ocean,  the  great  peaceful  sea  as  they  call  it 
themselves.  That  they  would  have  jour- 
neyed further  is  shown  by  the  way  their 
dreams  went  eastward  still.  They  them- 
selves could  not  for  the  preventing  ocean, 
and  the  lapping  of  its  waters  proved  a 
nation's  lullaby. 

One  thing,  I  think,  then,  our  glance  at 
Far  Eastern  civilization  has  more  than  sug- 
gested. The  soul,  in  its  progress  through 
the  world,  tends  inevitably  to  individualiza- 
tion.  Yet  the  more  we  perceive  of  the  cos- 
mos the  more  do  we  recognize  an  all-per- 
vading unity  in  it.  Its  soul  must  be  one, 


IMAGINATION.  225 

not  many.    The  divine  power  that  made  all 
things  is  not  itself  multifold.   How  to  recon- 
cile the  ever-increasing  divergence  with  an 
eventual  similarity  is  a  problem  at  present 
transcending  our  generalizations.    What  we 
know  would  seem  to  be  opposed  to  what  we 
must  infer.    But  perception  of  how  we  shall 
merge  the  personal  in  the  universal,  though 
at  present   hidden    from  sight,  may  some- 
time come  to  us,  and  the  seemingly  irrecon- 
cilable will  then  turn  out  to  involve  no  con- 
tradiction at  all.     For  this  much  is  certain  : 
grand  as  is  the  great  conception  of  Bud- 
dhism, majestic  as  is  the  idea  of  the  stately 
rest  it  would  lead  us  to,  the  road  here  below 
is  not  one  the  life  of  the  world  can  follow. 
If  earthly  existence  be  an  evil,  then  Bud- 
dhism will  help  us  ignore  it ;  but  if  by  an 
impulse  we  cannot  explain  we  instinctively 
crave  activity  of  mind,  then  the  great  gos- 
pel of  Gautama  touches  us  not ;  for  to  aban- 
don self  —  egoism  that  is  not  selfishness  — 
is  the  true  vacuum  which  nature  abhors. 
As  for  Far  Orientals,  they  themselves  fur- 
nish proof   against  themselves.     That  im- 
personality is  not  man's  earthly  goal  they 
unwittingly  bear  witness ;  for  they  are  not 
of  those  who  will  survive.     Artistic  attrao- 


• 


226         TEE  SOUL   OF  THE  FAR  EAST. 

tive  people  that  they  are,  their  civilization 
is  like  their  own  tree  flowers,  beautiful 
blossoms  destined  never  to  bear  fruit ;  for 
whatever  we  may  conceive  the  far  future 
of  another  life  to  be,  the  immediate  effect 
of  impersonality  cannot  but  be  annihilat- 
ing. If  these  people  continue  in  their  old 
course,  their  earthly  career  is  closed.  Just 
as  surely  as  morning  passes  into  afternoon, 
so  surely  are  these  races  of  the  Far  East,  if 
unchanged,  destined  to  disappear  before  the 
advancing  nations  of  the  West.  Vanish 
they  will  off  the  face  of  the  earth  and  leave 
our  planet  the  eventual  possession  of  the 
dwellers  where  the  day  declines.  Unless 
their  newly  imported  ideas  really  take  root, 
it  is  from  this  whole  world  that  Japanese 
and  Koreans,  as  well  as  Chinese,  will  in- 
evitably be  excluded.  Their  Nirvana  is 
already  being  realized  ;  already  it  has 
wrapped  Far  Eastern  Asia  in  its  winding- 
sheet,  the  shroud  of  -those  whose  day  was 
but  a  dawn,  as  if  in  prophetic  keeping  with 
the  names  they  gave  their  homes,  —  the 
Land  of  the  Day's  Beginning,  and  the  Land 
of  the  Morning  Calm. 


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